Gracious work in the city
by knirbenrots
Summary: Whatever happened in the last episode of season 4: it was nasty. How will the NCIS LA team cope with all that happened? Here's just a thought... The LA-team has to work with team Red and a member of the Washington-team. Plus some other (O) characters [re-occuring, also appeared in #BrigadaAngely ] Main character: G. Callen
1. Chapter 1

There were plenty chairs left empty on this small passenger plane. He counted. Only 15 of the 34 places were taken. He looked around. Some businessmen, a family with older kids. Right in front of him he heard an Eastern language, probably both men were Japanese.

Flying at this time of the day certainly had its pro's. Most people would take off earlier. In his case, it had been a rush after the short briefing director Vance had given him. Despite the fact he had been shocked about what happened at the office on the other side of the States, he was grateful to have the opportunity to switch places right now, knowing it was temporary. For him, it might just be enough to get back some confidence after what happened to his partner.

"Anything else you need, Miss?" the flight attendent asked behind him. He looked around. Taking the two seats at the row behind him a woman sat, the cushion that was issued by the aircompany behind her head and leaning towards the windowside. Next to her, there was a backpack.

"No thank you. The coffee and water will do fine", she said. From what he could see, she looked tired but at the same time fresh and alert. She wore her hair in a long braid but some of the darkblonde curls managed to escape from it, obviously disturbing her as she kept brushing them away. The aqua blue shirt combined with a long dark blue wide skirt she wore looked good on her, he thought. An all Californian girl, probably.

"Going back home?" he asked, curious as ever.

She looked up. Something in her dark blue eyes told him not to ask too much, yet she answered kindly. "Not really. I don't have a place called home. It seems that I am always traveling around for work".

"Goes for most passengers I think. The family might travel for fun, but the rest? Probably we are all flying for business purposes," he said. "So, what business are you in?"

"None of your business" her answer was.

"Let me guess then. You're a journalist. Or wait no, with those looks and the right make-up could easily beat Doutzen Kroes, some advertisement, looking in the camera and saying 'because we're worth it' with a slight accent in your voice. You could do that. Pretty sure that's it!" he stated enthousiasticly. Some people, strangers ánd co-workers, had troubles with that attitude.

Despite the fact she was tired and needed to read some files that were sent to her tablet, a smile reached her eyes. She loosened the braid, combed her hair which was curly right now, looked up as sexy as she could and said the exact words with the exact same accent, leaving Tony DiNozzo speachless.

The woman put her curls in a loose tail , took her coffee and went back to what she was supposed to do, concentrating on what she read on her tablet.

/ / / /

**Previously, in Los Angeles**

He had told Hetty he had bad feelings about this case. Getting Janvier, the Chameleon, back to the United States and daring to trust him, was far from anything G. Callen would plan himself. Sure, they needed to get to Sidorov. With the right equipment, they could guide Janvier to Sidorov. Sam and Quinn would be near Sidorov, Deeks was there as a back-up and the planning was as good as it could be.

Except that Callen knew, 99% for sure, that Janvier always was the person who played chess the way he would do it and made sure there would be a plan B. Check-mate? Once, they all had thought. However, the game continued.

And how right Callen had been. All went wrong. They lost contact with Sam and Deeks, Michelle - Quinn - got in serious trouble and Kensi was there to save her, hopefully in time because he, Callen, was too late to find how Janvier betrayed everyone so dear to him. He was the only one of the field team itself who was save right now.

"Eric, which floor are they?" Helping Kensi and Michelle was the only thing he could do by now. Having Eric guide him through the building, he found the women. Kensi seemed to control the situation already and he helped her to grab Michelles hands and get her back on the concrete floors.

"Sam?" she asked, trying to read her husband's partner's eyes.

The small shake of his head said it all.

"Let's get out of here", Kensi said. "Hetty warned LAPD to get these women." The female helpers of Sidorov were dead or dying, and help, if necessary, was on it's way.

The three of them left the building as quick as they could and the only thing that was on Callen's mind was to get to his other team mates too and find them before it was too late. Concentrating on the worries of Michelle, obviously worried about her husband, and Kensi, dedicated to get her partner back, he noticed the parked car nearly too late. Nearly too late but just in time...

An enormous blast devastated the van that was parked in front of the building. He managed to floor both women and tried to protect them with his body before something hard hit his head and his world became black.


	2. Chapter 2

Thank you for your comments so far! Hope you'll enjoy this second chapter as well. Please do not hesitate to leave any comments, they're very welcome.

In case you're worried: Neither Callen, nor the NCIS-LA team, nor the Washington team or team Red belong to me. They all belong to CBS! I gladly use all characters and include only one of my own.

* * *

**Chapter 2 Who?**

She had three different rooms to visit now. If only Hetty Lange had trusted the gut feeling of Callen, this would not have happened. Things had gotten completely out of control. Now she did have all her team back, alive, with all the help she had asked for. Both a swat-team of the LAPD and team Red had been in time to get Sam and Deeks out in time, but against what price? Yes, her team was alive. But once again, Sidorov escaped and the only one who seemed to know more was Janvier. However, he simply refused to talk. The only one he wanted to see was G. Callen.

She had no idea who would be ready for active duty first. Deeks needed some severe surgery. Sam's condition was worrysome and according to doctor Lee, he needed to be watched for a longer period. Than there was Callen. In fact he was hardly hurt but it was him she was worried about most.

Doctor Lee had explained that he did not know if his situation would change at all.

As long as G. Callen could not remember anything or anyone, her A-team would have lost it's team leader. Maybe even for ever. This all took it's toll on the tough and tiny operation manager.

She had asked director Vance to have some time out. This mission had made Hetty Lange left with the feeling of how unsure she was and if she would be able to handle any team anymore. Perhaps it was time to retire right now.

/€/€/€/€/

There was the older woman who was around so many times. At first, she did not say a word but just caressed his forehead in a way that made him feel she loved him. He had swallowed, opened his eyes and noticed her worries. "Mom?"

"No, dear boy, I am not your mother" she had answered, followed by a deep sigh. "Oh Mister Callen, I am so sorry. All of this should never have happened. In all of your life this was the second unforgivable mistake I must have made and I hope one day you will be abe to forgive me".

Despite the nausea and the awful headache he was shocked to see the tears in her eyes. This woman did not appear to be one that would be effected by what happened in daily life, yet now she was.

All she told him that time was that he was hurt during a mission.

What kind of a mission and with who? He could not remember anything at all. The physician had explained that the combination of a severe hit on his head and the fact that maybe he did not wánt to remember had the medical team decide that it would be best to not tell him anything about what was going on.

/€/€/€/€/

The blonde woman next to his bed looked worried. "Remember you promised me to grab a beer Callen? Now I am in your town I had hoped you'd keep your promise and here you are..."

He knew he liked to drink beer. However, he did not remember the woman. She looked tough, her slim body dressed in a pair of black jeans and a plain white t-shirt. The boots she wore with the jeans were black as well and had small heels.

In fact, she was dressed a bit like the younger, darkhaired women who had come to visit him some times already. He liked that woman better, he knew she was somebody he trusted and he realised she was somebody he knew longer, but his mind was all mixed up and he could not tell if his feeling was true or that she just reminded him of somebody else. That dark woman was more like a younger sister, someone he was fond of and he wanted to protect her from getting hurt.

This woman was different. She smiled a lot but she might do that ever so often to every man. Not all smiles reached her eyes so he noticed, so not all of them were genuinly meant. She probably tried to be one of the guys all the time. And oh my, his head hurt even more with her around. She was far too enthousiastic in his opinion.

"Sorry. Don't know about having a beer with you. I would like to rest now, so maybe you should try somebody else, Miss?"

"Paris, remember? Paris Summerskill".

He did not remember but it was a ridiculous name, he thought.

"Right. Paris. I want only one thing right now and that is not having a beer with you. Right now I prefer to be alone." Without the worry of hurting her feelings, he turned around and waited for her to leave.

She did. She had hoped for months and months that he'd contact her, but he never did. Well, she could always ask Roy to join her.

/€/€/€/€/

The flight had continued as it should have and within five hours the jet arrived at Ontario international in Los Angeles.

Tony DiNozzo took the small suitcase from the hand luggage compartment, waited for the passengers in front of him to leave the plane and went straight forward to the taxi platform. A hotelroom near the office had been booked for him, he would take some rest, watch a movie on tv perhaps and would make sure to arrive fresh in the office the next morning. He looked for a cab and noticed the intriguing woman who had sat behind him was looking for one too. "Do you need a taxi too, perhaps want to join?"

"Not necessary, I can stay at a friends place. And I know where to find it, thank you. Good luck doing business in the city of angels, mister!"

"Gracias, madame. That goes for you too. Because you're worth it, you know". She smiled back at him. She usually did not do this, make contact with complete strangers, but he had a certain air that made him trustworthy. He probably had a serious side as well ánd he knew how to dress. She guessed every woman secretely liked men wairing a suit.

The only thing Tony thought was that it was too bad he'd never find out more about her, or maybe he would see her on the big screens or in magazines after all. 'Never say Never'. Great motto in the end.

/€/€/€/€/

Grace Stevens had received the same kind of call that Antony DiNozzo had from director Vance. The team in Los Angeles was scattered and hurt and needed some quick and temporary edition to stay operative. Grace was used to work alone or be added to other teams, so it came as no surprise. She was shocked however when Vance had explained what happened.

Since she was in Texas for personal business, she arrived far earlier than Tony. In the late afternoon she decided to visit the hospital first. She remembered where Hetty Lange had her personell treated and after identifying herself she was allowed to see Callen.

He looked pale and had his eyes closed, but Grace could not tell if he was asleep or not. She carefully touched his arm and was surprised by his reaction. He simply shook off her hand after he had opened his gorgeous blue eyes.

"Don't do that please", he told her. "I don't like being touched by strangers".

His words strucked and hurt her in a way she never expected. Months ago they had discovered so many mutual things of their shared past, shared but at a different location.

"Sorry... I did not mean any harm Callen. I... just. Well, I'm sorry. How do you feel?" she finally dared to ask.

"Don't know. I don't even know how I feel. People walk in and out of this room and heck, I don't recognize any of you. How do you think I feel?"

Grace knew of his trust issues, his youth which she understood was far worse from what she had experienced. Realizing that his personality would never change from a situation like this, she concluded he must feel awful.

"Anything I can do to help you?" she asked.

"Not unless you're a shrink or will tell me exactly what happened" he answered. "As long as I don't know you or remember how I would know you, I really don't feel like talking. Thank you for visiting though."

He closed his eyers demonstrantly, hoping this kind woman too would leave. And that is what she did indeed.

/€/€/€/€/

She wondered where he was this night, since he did not even answer his telephone. Sure, he had told her all codes to enter his well secured home and since it was past midnight already, she decided to use his home right now.

A quick shower and a good night sleep was what she needed. The call had come unexpected when she was in Turkey advising an international hostage rescue team. She was nearly operative again and should pass two more tests. The man that called did not mind, he wanted and needed an edition to a quick response team. And so she left in a hurry, exhausted after a long day of work, up for 45 hours already. Yes, she really needed to sleep.

She smiled as she noticed he had put the bed in a spare room, and his bedroll in the master bedroom. She took one of his t-shirts and gratefully closed her eyes.

Unfortunately, the nightmares fully haunted Chris Young again, in here.

**_Thank you for reading! As ever, your reviews are very welcome._**


	3. Chapter 3

**Yes, indeed, Chris Young is back!**  
[F**_or those who are not familiar with her, she was around in another story 'Brigada Angely':_** s/9040389/1/Brigada-Angely ]

* * *

**Chapter 3**

She had fallen asleep after some reading and in the large chair that was the only piece of furniture in the living room. He had put it close to the chimney. His chessboard on the one side next to it and a pile of books on the other side. The chair was all his.  
Chris awoke, stiff from the curled up position and sighed when she looked at the time. It was far too early, the jet lag hit her and after the far too familiar nightmare she only slept two and a half hours.

Since she did not know what to do, she decided to go for a run on the beach. On her way back she stopped by a grocery store, bought herself some food and walked back. After a short shower she noticed it was time to go to the place where the meeting would be. She ordered a taxi to the address that she'd been given. An odd place, a large boatshed in the harbor-area. There was a grey car parked behind it and an older man waiting for her.

"Good morning. Christianne Young, I presume? I'm Owen Granger, assistant director of NCIS. Glad you could come. You studied the case?"

She nodded. She had read the files she received and hoped she could do whatever was needed. From what she had seen, her task was to interrogate a man about the whereabouts of a Russian weapon dealer and a presumed daughter of this man. Did he really have a daughter and if so, was she in danger? "Sure, I read all about this man. Such a bastard, pure evil isn't he?"

"He's the most miserable person I can remember indeed and responsible for a lot of trouble. I will brief you all about that later, Miss Young. For now, we need to know if there really is a daughter as he told one of my agents before, and if he is willing to co-operate finding nuclear weapons."

With that little information she had to work. Sure, she had read the backgrounds of the man which had her blood run cold. It reminded her so much of the backgrounds of her own former worse enemy, who she managed to kill finally herself.

/€/€/€/€/

Kensi Blye arrived early at the Office of Special Projects. She felt alone and worried about her team. Right now, she was the only one left of the four of them and even Hetty had decided to give up for the time being.  
Granger had announced there would be three temporary co-workers to arrive later that morning. She hoped for some experienced agents she could work with and that they would able to get Sidorov and the nuclear weapons he must have managed to transport to an unknown location. In fact, Kensi wished she could interrogate both Janvier and Sidorov herself without holding back.  
She really wanted revenge for what they did to Deeks, Sam and Michelle. She needed her own team back, wanted al to be normal again. Normal, that would mean that Hetty would be back. And Callen... heck, what happened to him was the most unexpected, she thought. The fact that he got hurt while he was protecting her and Michelle frustrated her enormously.

She took some fresh coffee and decided to join Eric and Nell.

"Hey guys. Any idea when Granger and the temps will arrive?"

Nell looked up. "Granger will be here after another interrogation of Janvier, the others should arrive near noon," she answered. "As soon as he and Janvier start, we'll synchronize the screens."

"You'll warn me, won't you?" she asked.

"Sure Kenz. Won't be long I guess." Eric sensed Kensi felt lonelier than ever and was just as determined to solve this case and get the team back.  
She needed one of the breakfast burritos and another coffee. On her way back to the bullpen with the empty desks, she simply decided to go up already.

"Was about to whistle!" Eric told her when she entered the ops room. She took a chair and joined the two techs, watching the screen.  
"It's not Granger, one of the guards in there and who's that with him?" Nell asked. When Janvier sat down they noticed the guard remained standing while there was a woman taking the seat opposite of Janvier.  
"It is her!" Eric was the first one to notice. "How and why and when did Chris Young join Granger?" The three of them remembered the woman from a long lasting undercover operation of Callen and from months later when she had turned up, unexpectedly, during an operation on Guam. Although they had asked Callen several times how she was doing, recovering from physical wounds but far more mentally, he had simply given them a whole new smirk.  
Last time Kensi had heard about her was weeks ago when she heard Callen tell Sam she still wasn't ready for active duty. Yet here she was.

Then they were quiet, listening to what it was that Chris asked Janvier and how she did that. She started off in fluent French, which was the mother tongue of the Chameleon, as Janvier was called.  
She introduced herself politely and the answers were just as polite, not in French though but in German, which she spoke fluently as well since she was raised in The Netherlands where it had been part of high school curriculum.  
"Now we're done introducing ourselves you might want to tell me, us", as she gestured at the guard but aware that they both know there were other people watching with them, "how we can find your daughter", she said.

"I don't see the point. You're detectives, you should find out yourself."

"Agents," she calmly answered. "No private investigators. Besides, my fellow agents promised you to keep her safe IF you co-operated. So far, I have only met a stubborn man who not only betrayed some of those people, but who also does not seem to care if we really keep his daughter safe or not. How do you know if your worst enemy is not already on his way to find her too? So, it is up to you."

_"She's good, isn't she?" Nell said, never looking away from the screen. Her colleagues nodded without speaking._

"Curious and dedicated, my dear Miss Young. Although I must say I love to see you in here, I already told the older lady and the gentleman in here that I am only speaking to agent G. Callen. He and I get along so fine. You know that too, don't you? Has he told you already how he enjoyed our last meeting?"

"Of course he did."

"Then you should know he can't wait to see me in here too. Instead he sends me you, a new kitten of the agency."

She managed to not show any emotion. "Since you know Callen so well, you know he is a great chess player. Apparently, he's one step ahead of you right now. Does it surprise you he is after the ones you worked with?"  
Chris knew she was bluffing but she kept looking Janvier straight in his eyes, not showing anything, not even her frustrations. "All I was asked to do is to discuss the safety of your daughter. You told my colleagues she lives in Paris, monsieur Janvier."

"Paris. Don't you just love the city? It's romantic, mysterious in a way and with so many places to hide, or to expose yourself, whatever you like."

Still no answer. "Start with a name. That is, if you were not lying when you told about her before."

"I never lie. Ask special agent Callen if you have any doubts. He should be able to tell you all about it. And just to remind you, you all" and a devious smile appeared on his face, a sign that he knew more people were watching, "if you need any more information, I am willing to talk to him as I said before."

"Just to remind you, mister Janvier, he is on his way and he won't be able to protect anyone if he does not know who to find. So, our ways may separate by now, I don't care at all. Thank you," she stated as she got up.

In the room next to the room, Granger sighed. He had hoped this woman, recommended by director Vance himself, would have been able to get more information. Too bad...

Just when the guard was about to open the door, Janvier started to talk. "Kittens can grow into sweet lazy or into wild cats, Miss Christianne Young. You were doing fine. I never lied. There's really a daughter and whatever you do, start looking in Paris. Both for her as for everyone you're after. And please do let G. Callen know I really look forward to play a real game of chess once he's back in the country or back in the game."

She turned around. "Of course I will."  
No sweet goodbyes, she simply left the room, missing the next grim smirk the Chameleon shot to the camera. As if there was so much more he did not share, not with her.

/€/€/€/€/

"He will be around when he's back from this mission, love."  
Michelle knew she needed to keep Sam calm for the next twenty-four hours. Maybe thén it would be the right time to tell him, maybe it was even too early, she did not know, time would tell if Dr Lee would not be around to advise her. From what she saw, her husband was recovering sooner than she thought he would.  
He had noticed the bruises and small cuts on her left hand, the result from the fight with Sidorov's bodyguards and the explosion soon afterwards and she told him, carefully, that Kensi had saved her life. Now Sam wanted to see Callen which was a mission impossible. If her husband would find Callen like he was right now, he would feel responsibility for the team, guilty perhaps and he still needed his rest.

"And how's Deeks doing?"  
Michelle sensed the guilt there was if it came to how Sam had treated his younger partner. Despite the fact Deeks was the one who always joked around, he would never let a partner down like Sam had suggested and all of his team heard. On the contrary, despite the severe torture Deeks had managed to not betray Michelle.  
He been operated on early the day before. His jaw was broken and needed to be fixed. The missing tooth were replaced and the fingers that were broken were put in a plaster cast. He'd be quiet for the first days, but would recover fine, Hetty had told her.  
"He's still on morphine, suffering from pain. But the operations went fine. Maybe you should visit him tomorrow honey," she suggested.

"You think he wants to see me after what's been said and done?" Sam hesitated.  
Michelle looked at her husband and answered "if you don't do it soon you'll never forgive yourself and you know that. Stop worrying and get some rest. I'll be around with the kids tonight, okay?"

"I look forward to that. I really miss them," he said. After a kiss, she left his room to go home.

"How is he doing, Mrs. Hanna?"  
She never heard the older woman walking towards her and looked up. "Hetty! Sam? I'm surprised he's doing fine, much better than I expected in fact. Pissed that Callen isn't around and I hate to lie to him. And he is worried about Deeks' reaction, which is logical of course. What are your thoughts about it?"

"We'll have to discuss that with Dr Lee later this afternoon, my dear. And I will ask Mr. Deeks if he is willing to see Mr. Hanna. But I would not worry, Mr. Deeks has always been the person who is willing to forgive. Maybe if they'd work together more often as a team..." She sighed. Had she always made the wisest decisions herself, she wondered?

"And about G, when would be the right moment to tell Sam about him?" Michelle asked.

"Oh dear, that's something I really want to think about. I'll be around in here, see both my boys and assess this matter with Dr Lee as well. Will I see you around in here later on?"

"I promised Sam that I bring the kids to visit him his evening, so yeah, I will be in here," the CIA agent told her.

"Please do remember I arranged for some extra security for you and the kids. As long as we have not found Sidorov, I don't think you or my team are safe".  
It had been one of the last actions she had taken before she'd called Vance to tell him she wanted to take some time off. She knew all security measures at this VIP part of the Cedars-Sinai were as good as could be and Vance would do what was necessary to keep the workers at the OSP safe.  
Hetty Lange decided she needed some tea. It always helped her to clear her thoughts.

/€/€/€/€/

"Is it good enough to work with?" Chris asked Owen Granger, not sure about the answers Janvier had given.

"It is the way he communicates. Hopeless, cryptically and always one little step forward. It will have to do. It is time you and I go to our headquarters and discuss the case with the team."  
How curious Chris was, it would be the first time to visit the place where Callen and Sam and the rest of their team worked!

* * *

_Your comments are welcome, as ever! _


	4. Chapter 4

DISCLAIMER: Recognizable characters are not mine, hopefully CBS & Shane Brennan let me just play with them. I promise I'll return them, healed and all!

* * *

**Chapter 4**

Owen Granger drove in the direction of the NCIS office of special projects, wondering if the team that director Vance had got together in a hurry would be a good one to handle. Since Hetty Lange had decided to take some time off, he had travelled quite suddenly to Los Angeles as well, hardly taking any time to study the personnel files that were sent to his account.  
He quickly glanced at the woman next to him. She looked tired, probably because of a lack of sleep. From what he understood, she arrived late last night after a long flight from Turkey, where she had been working a long day already. Hostage rescuing was one of her specialties, Vance had told him. And although she had not been cleared for active duty yet, Vance and her direct handler had decided she would be the right person for this mission.

"Have you been in Los Angeles before?" he asked, just for the sake of breaking the silence.

"It's the third time, sir. But I hardly have seen any of the city, in fact," she answered.

Granger understood it was not anything she liked to talk about right now. He decided to keep quiet. She was probably one of those people that needed some time to open up and he sincerely hoped she'd fit in the quick response team, as Vance had called the temporary team. If only there had been more time, Granger would have studied more personnel files himself, but this was who he needed to work with right now, he realized.

"We're nearly there," he told her, taking two other turns before he parked his car.

"This is it?" Chris looked at the odd building, in an odd neighborhood, a building that should be abandoned. She was nervous, not knowing who she'd meet in there.

"It is", was al he said. "You'll meet the others in here, they should be nearly be around I think."

/€/€/€/€/

_meanwhile_

Hetty entered Callen's room, again. "How are you doing, dear boy?"

His clear blue eyes opened, distrusting as ever yet recognizing the well-meant interest the older woman showed. "Maybe I'm doing alright and should be leaving this room soon. I'm done with people asking me how I feel. People walking in and out, people who say they know me but I don't remember. Do you have a clue how that is? I should be home by now."

"You may be right. Do you remember anything about home? Just curious, what does it look like? Can you tell me?" She wanted to know what he remembered.

"To start of, the key is... Wait, you know. I don't have to tell you." He got angry. Who all knew where he put the key? "You do know my little sister put the key between the roses, so I don't have to tell you!"

"Dear boy, it is not about the key. Tell me all about it. Do you like to be there, who else lives there, what about you eat for breakfast, the color of the towels, and those kind of things? What car do you drive, who do you work with..."

"Stop it!" Callen shouted. He really did not want to think about things, afraid that all the things she wanted to know would be things he could not remember. "Everybody comes around, asks me things I really want to know too... Yet I can't simply tell. I remember a fast car. I know I work with that tomboy girl that visits me every day, I like to work with her. I remember a kind of canoe hanging on a wall in a building I work and I can hear someone whistling at me, a sign that we have to hurry to get to work. I like to drink beer and I love to be around with—with." He sighed, then looked away from her.

Hetty saw how he struggled and felt his pain and frustrations. What worried her most was that he never mention Sam or Deeks.  
Was it because he did not wánt to remember anything that happened, blaming himself that he never noticed how Janvier managed to betray his co-workers and simply banned his memory? Should she be the one to ask more? It could not have been all, since he forgot about Grace, Eric, Paris and herself as well. Lee had been right, she knew. It was a combination of both. Part of his memory loss must have been caused by the severe hit on his head. The gap on the left side was near a very vulnerable part of the scull and had amazed the physicians that it had not caused any other damage than this. But from what he just said Hetty concluded the other part did just as much. If only she knew more of how this emotional block of his brain worked…

"It's okay, calm down. You'll be alright soon, don't worry. You'd better get some rest, Dr Lee will be around this afternoon again." At that, she left his room, desperately needing some fresh brewed Mamaki Ginger tisane right now, she thought. And so would Callen. It would relieve some stress indeed.

/€/€/€/€/

When she entered the building with Granger, Chris Young was surprised that it burst of active people everywhere. Desks grouped in several bullpens, a graceful staircase with a small platform, something that looked like a dressing room, a wardrobe...  
Odd from the outside and the inside. It had the looks of a Spanish Mission in fact.

"You might want to wait in there," Granger gestured toward a couch. "There's a coffee corner so take whatever you need".  
He took a laptop and some paper files from his small suitcase, put them on an antique desk and set the suitcase on the floor next to it.

Chris still stood, looking around to see if there were any familiar faces, but there weren't. She certainly could use another coffee to stay alert and after the, to her, frustrating talk she had with the Chameleon.  
"Chris Young?" A good looking woman with long, dark hair, came trotting down the stairs.

She nodded.  
"Hey, good to see you in here, to finally meet you in real life!" The other woman said. Noticing the questions on her face, Kensi continued. "I'm Kensi, Kensi Blye. I'm part of Callen's team but right now I'm glad you'll be working with me. The others will be around soon, Granger will be briefing the teams then."

"Teams?" Chris asked curiously.

"Yes, we'll be working with another team, team Red. Our team will be completed with two more."

"Callen and Sam, yeah, I know them," Chris said.

"Gosh no..." Kensi exclaimed. Then she looked up, shocked. "Granger did not tell you?"

"About what?"

So Kensi informed Chris Young what happened.

/€/€/€/€/

Grace Stevens entered the office five minutes later, greeted Granger, walked on and dropped her go-bag next to the coffee machine. There, she took a cup of tea, looked around and took both her bag and tea to one of the empty desks.  
Yes, she did notice Kensi talking to another woman who listened quietly to what Kensi Blye told her. Grace was curious, she had not seen the other woman before. Healthy looking, tanned and long, dark blonde curls that she wore in a loose tail and dressed in a pair of white trousers and dark blue blouse. On her serious face Grace saw no make-up except for some mascara and lip-gloss and for once, she wished she had the nerve to do so too. The woman would be a little younger than her, a little older than Kensi Blye was.  
Grace noticed the woman bowed her head, then nodded, got up and went to the direction of the ladies' room.

Just as she had decided to ask Kensi about the other woman, Tony DiNozzo entered the building. With him, the Vance/Granger's team had been assembled.

/€/€/€/€/

'Memory loss' Kensi had told her. Most probable because he managed to save both Sam's wife, Michelle, as Kensi.

_"I heard him shout about getting down, but we were both so grateful to get out of the building alive that we hardly paid attention to that. Then Callen floored us both and managed to cover us with his body. The force of the blast of that van was… devastating. After the enormous heat that washed over us and loads of debris too, Michelle and I sat up. But Callen, well, he wasn't. He stayed down and remained unconscious even till after he was hospitalized."_

And the rest of his team, Sam and Deeks having been sadistically tortured. With whom were they dealing?

Chris splashed some fresh water on her wrists, looked in the mirror, took a deep breath and decided she was ready to get in the game.

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**_Hope you liked this chapter! Your comments are very welcome, thanks in advance!_**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Nope, I still don't own any characters of our favorite shows. You might not recognize Chris Young, now she is unfamiliar with NCIS, NCIS-LA and to CBS. Shhtt… Let's just keep it that way, before she's claimed too!**_

* * *

**Chapter 5**

After the somewhat standard greetings - after all, they all had met before, Tony's eyes were drawn to the person he just noticed walking to the coffee corner.  
"Now what!" he exclaimed, "I should call Gibbs. Cannot remember which rule it is, probably somewhere in the thirties. His rule. 'There is no such thing as coincidence'. 'Because I'm worth it' that is."

Granger looked at the senior agent that Vance had decided to send to Los Angeles for this occasion only. The sudden rattling of words and rules left Owen Granger somewhat annoyed, not knowing what Anthony DiNozzo meant by this.  
He looked around to find out what DiNozzo saw that enthused the agent the way it did. Sure, Granger had heard of the list of rules that Gibbs had, but he never imagined any of the Washington team would recall them. Much to his surprise, he saw Chris Young had appeared in the eye sight of DiNozzo.

"Never thought to see you around!" Tony was genuinely surprised to see the woman he met during the flight from Washington to Los Angeles in this building. Even better, she walked to them as if it was the most ordinary thing to do, and then smiled.  
"Yet here I am, and so are you".

A low clearing of the throat from Granger was followed by a 'so you two apparently met before' spoken by the same man.

"Yes we have"—"Sure did", they said at the same time.  
Then, Chris added "Hi, y'all. I'm Christianne, but please just call me Chris. I suppose you're the ones I'll be working with?"

"This is the team for now, indeed," Granger continued. "Now, the four of you must know by now that the usual team in which agent Blye operates, is temporarily not available. In ops, Eric or Nell will help you with all necessary information we have so far. What I want, what director Vance wants, is that the four of you will work as a team and find out all about Sidorov and his business, and about 'The Chameleon' as we call mister Janvier. But first things first, you all should get to know each other better, so I suggest you'll meet with the analysts, ask about files, read them while communicating with each other too. Now, would that be clear?"  
He looked around, noticed the serious looks on their faces and concluded he'd manage to work with them indeed.

That being despite the fact that he heard Tony say, loud and clear "Now, how come I finally get to feel like John Bosley, having my angels work with me?"

/€/€/€/€/

It felt a bit awkward, four people, hardly knowing each other, having to work with each other. Kensi had met them all.  
The last one she had met was Grace Stevens, who worked for NCIS as well and whose background looked surprisingly like Callen's. A well trained agent, usually working alone and used to longer undercover operations. Kensi once had thought Grace might be a great partner for Callen, and a great co-worker too. Well, she should experience if it was true that they'd be able to work together well.

Then, there was Tony. Years ago, Kensi had been trained in Washington for some weeks and Tony DiNozzo had been her mentor in there. He somehow reminded her of Deeks - after all they shared their love for movies and quotes. Tony too, like Deeks, might appear as a goofball who managed to immaturely laugh away the nastiest situations during the cases. He worked extremely fast though and because of that, there was always time for a joke, or for a personal talk. It would be good working with him again. She heard from Vance what had happened between Tony and Ziva and how it had influenced the team. If that happened, one day, between her and Deeks, she'd feel lost the way Tony must feel lost by now. If the opportunity would occur, she'd ask him about it.

Chris, well… she had seen the best actions ever from her, even in a period where she'd been captured. She could handle a lot of pressure, was a team player but could work alone as well. Kensi knew what the woman had gone through. It contained a brutal, inhuman and probably traumatizing violation which lasted a few days. For the eye, it looked as if she recovered fine. Chris Young was, however, no NCIS agent at all. She worked for Interpol, had been liaised to the bureau of counterterrorism and had specialized in interrogation techniques lately, due to the fact she had needed a period to heal physically. Yes, she could fit in fine in this temporary team too, Kensi concluded.

/€/€/€/€/

The four of them watched vids from past interrogations of The Chameleon, had Nell summarizing the case of missing nuclear weapons, listened as Kensi filled in gaps and informed them about how Sidorov had managed to flee the country before, on a diplomatic flight, and left his men handle business meanwhile.  
Kensi too was the one to explain how the CIA got involved in this case through Quinn. Quinn was Michelle Hanna's alias for the period she worked for the CIA. She also posed as the favorite gunner of Isaac Sidorov and both Sam and Deeks were tortured to find out if Michelle had betrayed Sidorov. Kensi had come just in time to save her from falling down from the 20th floor of a construction site. She had been so glad Callen came to help her, and now he…  
_'No, Blye, focus on solving the case. No 'what-if's' to think about.'_

"Those nukes, they're still missing than?" Grace wanted to know. "Are you sure they haven't been smuggled out of the country?"

"Simply impossible," Nell explained. "The way those things were constructed in the fifties and sixties, make it hardly possible to dismantle them. All in all it means that the materials would have to be shipped out of the United States either by ship or truck. We've had the whole alphabet soup watching borders after the trial in Mexico. And even if Sidorov found some buyer again, he couldn't rely on his broker once more since Marcel Janvier is in custody."

Eric continued. "Nevertheless, Homeland Security and the FBI keep producing lists of possible buyers from both inside and outside our borderlines".

"And they share those lists?" Tony was curious. He never envisioned enemies like this Sidorov.

"Both NCIS as CIA as NSA receive regular updates. That goes as well when people want to enter our country for the second time within two months or a successive time within half a year. We're informed, thus."

"And at this moment", Nell concluded, "Sidorov is no longer in our country. Some of his co-workers though still are."

"He's in Paris, I think."

Grace and Tony looked at Chris. It was Grace who asked "How would you know?"

"It was something Janvier said this morning. To start looking for everyone in Paris."

"Everyone?"

Chris explained. "It was what Granger wanted me to ask Janvier: the whereabouts of his daughter. Only when I was about to leave the interrogation room he mentioned Paris."

"Wait!" Eric swiveled his chair, hit some buttons and turned back to the group, while footage of that morning's talk between Chris and The Chameleon was shown.

'—start looking in Paris. Both for her as for everyone you're after', they all heard him say it again.  
"What makes you think Janvier knows you're after Sidorov, or knows you're after somebody else if it weren't Sidorov?" Grace asked.

"You know he betrayed Sam, and with him Deeks and Michelle were victims of that betrayal." Kensi thought everyone could have made that conclusion.

From behind them, Owen Granger said "We might want to ask him again. A name for the girl, and a name for the other person or persons he means would be a good starter. Kensi, Chris, I suggest you both visit our guest at the boathouse again. Go in alone with him, Chris, and Kensi, you carefully watch and get Chris out if anyone else has got questions or additions."

/€/€/€/€/

"Hey, Grace," Tony whispered, looking around if anyone was around to overhear them. "Have you seen that picture?"  
The two of them had taken a chair in the bullpen, taking the desks of Sam and Deeks.

"Which picture?" Grace asked. The desks at the bullpen were empty, except for the document trays which were filled with files. The piles on Callen's desk were highest, probably because he was the team leader who needed to take care of most paperwork.  
Tony gestured towards the desk where Owen Granger was seated. "There's one of Frank and Hetty Lange."  
"Frank? Frank who?"

"The Voice, Ol'Blue Eyes. 'I'm gonna live till I die', that Frank". He noticed his temporary co-worker still hardly had a clue and he sighed. "Sinatra, you silly! She's on a picture with Frank Sinatra"!

"You mean you noticed one of Hetty's family pictures? Oh, you should take a closer look. There are so many pictures of her with world-famous persons. But she has them also of the team, all in black and white," Grace answered. She'd seen some of them before.

"Instead of talking about pictures I suggest you'll get your eyes on screen in ops." Owen Granger suddenly stood behind them, together with Eric Beale, who shrugged as he was used to whistling. Those two had not paid any attention to that, however.  
"Video is up in a few secs guys. You'd want to watch too."

/€/€/€/€/

"Well well. Kitty Cat is back."  
She was prepared for a not-warm welcome, and she knew it was nothing more than a game of chess, trying to see if one could lure the other into a stupid move. Of course she did not react to that.  
"I take the game is too difficult to you?"

They simply sat there, opposite of each other, waiting for the other one to move first. And instead of any serious talk, Janvier obviously had wanted to wait for another helpful suggestion.  
"Where have you been hiding, Miss Christianne Young? You know, même vous pourriez être ma fille."

"I know who my father is. No way."  
He took some other minutes to simply observe her. Then he said "Gollandtsami. Net, ya nikogda ne byl, vy pravy." [You're Dutch. No, you're right, I've never been there]

"Vasha doch' togo zhe vozrasta, ya ponimayu?" [So your daughter is of my age, do I get that right?]

_'-Please continue in English Miss Young'_ – she heard Owen Granger say in the earwig. She hid a sigh.  
"Now, any chance you're giving me something to work with? Any chance you realize time might be on your side by now? This morning you told me 'the others' would be in Paris too, like your daughter. Would 'the others' know about your girl?"

A slow sly grin appeared on his face. 'At least the others will recognize agent Callen once he gets there. Or wait, he might already have met them. Any chance you know about that?"

She could do what he did and she smirked. "Bad etiquette, monsieur Janvier to try to force a draw."

Suddenly, the man burst into laughter. "Kitty knows how to play chess too. Good, good. Now listen carefully. There is this 'threefold repetition'. Either you or I will have to break it after our next move, otherwise it would be a draw, true?"

Chris nodded.

"I gave you a clue. Paris. Now it's up to you to come up with a suggestion, without contacting your agent Callen. Let's hear what you come up with, but you have to come up with something. Or you should call it a draw, or let me win."

In the room next door, Kensi shivered. She remembered how those words had been spoken before to Chris Young. She admired the other woman for not showing any emotion, at least, none that she noticed.

Her mind worked hard and after a short while she said: "The embassy Sidorov visit will first in Paris will be the Syrian." She knew it was a wild guess, but after all the Iranian were the first ones he had wanted to contact. Iran, Russia and Syria once were allies. Although Syria had its intern problems, Iran and Russia had lost most interests, but it never meant moneymakers like Sidorov might still try.

Janvier looked straight into her dark blue eyes. Then, he chuckled shortly. "Moving position. Game's on. You'd better watch the field carefully before the next move."

_'-He's threatening her!'-_ this time it was Tony she heard.

"Watch what you're saying," she allowed herself to snap. Damn. She should have not heard that remark of DiNozzo.

"Look at that. Some emotion. Scratching nails, kitty cat?"

Chris stood up. "It's far from perpetual check. Remember that." On that she left the room.

Kensi was waiting for her. "I don't know anything about chess, but reading his face, as far as I can do, you were right about at least one thing. It is Sidorov who is in Paris, and probably will be using some diplomatic contacts in there.  
Chris nodded. She suddenly felt very tired. The guy worked on her nerves and she could hardly shake off the feeling that he was one step ahead after all.

_'-Well done, Miss Young'-_ Granger spoke on the other screens._ 'You got at least some leads to work with. Now, I suggest you both catch a breath. Be in the office by 7.30 AM tomorrow. There's lots of work to be done'._ On that, the communication from the OSP quit.

"You're tired. The jet lag?" Kensi suggested.

"Maybe. Had a bad night since… Well, a bad night."

"How about an early and light dinner? And maybe—" she abruptly stopped, not knowing for sure if she should continue.  
"Maybe what?" Chris reacted more harsh than she had wanted. The other woman meant well, she could tell, but Chris really did not look forward to a girl's night out.

"I thought maybe you'd want to join me when I'm going to the hospital? Okay, maybe no good plan after all," she nearly apologized. Kensi looked up to see the surprise in Chris's dark blue eyes.

"I'd love to", she answered.

/€/€/€/€/

The tomboy girl called Kensi had entered his room again. After all the previous visits of the day, Callen sighed and said, without trying to hurt her "Not now, would you mind to come back another time?"

Instead of her answering, he heard 'Vy ustali? Ili s golovnoy bol'yu?" [Are you tired? Having a headache?]

A slight smile appeared on his face as he nodded. "Da. I vy, nochnyye koshmary?" [Yes. And you, nightmares?]

This was so weird, Kensi realized. How come Callen instantly answered? This was great, and the smile that reached her face was still there when she took her chair next to Marty Deeks' bed.

/€/€/€/€/

"The sheer bliss of sleep!"  
Owen Granger saw the happy smile, one he could not remember to have seen before on the small office manager's face, as he heard her say this to no-one but herself.

"Hetty?" he asked. "Anything you want to share?"

The smile did not really leave. "Look at that", she said.

"Is that—?"

Henrietta Lange nodded. Lots of loose, dark blonde curls. Chris Young had cuddled up to his protective body and they were both asleep.

"You never read the files too careful, did you, Owen?" she finally chuckled.

/€/€/€/€/

It was in the late morning that her phone rang just as she was talking to Callen who now nearly dozed off.  
Yes, she had the feeling that he would recover pretty soon after what she had seen last night, how should she think of it, last night's meeting with Chris Young.  
Hetty still was surprised how Callen must have accepted her as a visitor and immediately must have felt it was right.

She sighed. Even in hospital, even when she had told she was taking time off, Owen Granger managed to find her, again. For a while, she considered not to answer the phone. Ah, well…

"Owen?"

"Hetty, we've got a situation," he said.

* * *

_Please let me know how you like the story so far. Your reviews are valuable to me! _


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N ** A guest reader told me he/she got confused about the hospital scene. A short explanation: in my previous story, 'Brigada Angely', Chris and Callen met before!

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_**Chapter 6**_

Despite the fact that his voice never sounded strained - on the contrary, she had got used to the low, nasal drawl - Hetty noticed by the clearing of Owen Granger's throat that whatever it was, it was serious. "Carry on," she said prudently. After all, hé was the assistant director and hé should be the one who'd tell her, office manager, what to do. For the last few months, they worked more closely, although Granger was handling team Red as well by now.

"Thing is", he said, "that both the guards we've had been working at the boathouse, were shot this morning, within a reach of approximately a quarter of a mile from the place, so still in the harbor area. One of them died, the other was wounded badly. There must have been a security breach of the very place. Eric thinks someone must know Janvier is kept in there and that same someone managed to tune in and listen to what has been said in the boathouse."

"And what is worse, the same person or persons have kept an eye on who enters and leaves the building," Hetty concluded.

"Indeed". Granger scraped his throat once more.

"Now, who else was in there, except for the guards?"

"There was me, Kensi, the other guards. And, twice in my car, Chris Young."

"Chris?!" Hetty echoed. "How and when did she use your car and be in there? Now first you warn her and get yourself and her to a safe place. Nell knows addresses."

"As I've said, we've got a situation. She is, how shall I say, temporarily not available. I've sent her as a member of the temporary team to Paris."

"Paris? Team?" Again, Hetty noticed she was echoing his words, simply because the information he gave her sounded so not like she ran her team.  
"Now get your ass to a safe house, Owen. From now on, I'll run the office myself again. You get director Vance on the phone, explain what happened and keep watching your back. If I must and if it's what it takes, I'll have Gibbs' whole team flown in. We need to get Janvier out of there before anyone else will. Exactly what your Red Team should do the moment we're talking!"

"They are not directly around since they're helping Homeland Security on the search of the nukes. Thought I could use their quick way of responding and traveling through the country would make that a perfect case for them."

For once, Hetty was glad there was no way Granger could catch the nearly desperate expression on her face when she rang off. How on earth had he take those decisions? Paris and her team were used to work everywhere, as a team. This temporary team, they should have stayed and work from the office. They would have been perfectly able to handle this, without team Red. She sighed.

"Hetty?"  
That was the moment she realized she had made a mistake. He overheard. His agent-qualities, the ones she thought he had stacked far away, probably took over again.

/€/€/€/€/

Previously

The moment she had started to talk Russian, asked about headaches, Callen had known she had severe nightmares. Kensi had left his room, she stayed and came closer, simply longing for a hug. Instead of the chair, she used the edge of his bed.

"You are… back", he carefully said.

"Flown in, a special request by your director it was", she said. "Kensi told me what happened."

"What happened?" He let his hands go over his temples over again. "What happened?"

"Never mind, Callen. Just… forget it." Chris noticed how he struggled with that question, and she gently took his hand. "You're tired, maybe it's better to come back at another moment."

His clear blue eyes looked tired indeed, but she could read his care in them at the same time as he said "No, you need me to chase your nightmares. That's my job." His hand moved to the back of her head where he unfastened the clip that held her long curls in a ponytail.  
"You're tired too," he noticed.  
She nodded. If only she could just lie down, next to him, for a while…

/€/€/€/€/

Sam had just kissed Michelle goodnight, hugged his kids and let them go home.

He felt ever so much better and hoped he would be released soon so he could be home with his wife and kids. He realized how lucky he was that they got another chance to go on with their life, and he knew, yes, he knew, how much he owed Deeks and Kensi.  
And Callen, well… Sam sighed. His partner must feel guilty; getting Janvier back into the country only to find out the guy was betraying his team. The least Callen could do was to… Well, Michelle and Hetty had told him G. Callen was on a mission. They'd talk it over soon.

Still, he couldn't get it of his mind -why had Callen simply left so soon?

Even some hours later, Sam Hanna lie awake, thinking of what happened and how wrongly he had judged and treated Deeks. He noticed that despite the stress he felt, he still kept his heart rate low, whilst the doctor had told him that he should not worry too much because it might affect the situation.

Should he go and talk to Deeks right now?  
He decided he needed to, simply to get even and say how wrong he had been. The night shift had just started and the physician and nurse made their first round. He got up. He'd find Deeks who should be at the same floor of course. It was the first time of the 3 days he had spent in this hospital that he had gone out of his bed and outside his room.

Once on the corridor of the Cedars-Sinai, he noticed a nurse and physician leaving another room. "There was no need to wake her up to have her leave, Sheila. They were both asleep and obviously both needed that", he heard the doctor say to the nurse.

Sam smiled. Kensi probably had a long day at work and fell asleep with Deeks. Good, he'd wait until she would leave and step in for the moment of truth. In fact he was dreading the moment. What if Michelle and Hetty were wrong and Deeks refused to talk to him? He inhaled deeply, readying himself.  
He breathed out even with more power. Instead of Kensi walking out of the room, he saw it was Chris Young who was closing the door.

"Chris? How's—" before he finished his question, he realized she was not around to visit Deeks. "Wait… Callen's in there?!"  
She looked up to see his surprised expression and she slowly nodded. Then, he continued calmly. "What happened? Why—is it serious?" He was about to enter the room she'd just left.

"Wait. You don't know yet, do you? Keep calm, Sam. Heard you had a bad time."

He saw her biting her lower lip and he asked "How about G?" She took his arm, her dark blue eyes catching the worry in his brown ones. "He… he can't remember what happened. From what Kensi told me, he lost his memory. But—well, when I came in it was as if I left some weeks ago". Chris sighed. "Really, I don't know what's going on and whether it is wise of you to go in or not."

"Wise for me, or for him?" he wanted to know.

A wry smile appeared on her face. "For neither of you. Now, I really am not the right person to tell you what to do and what not. Have you seen Deeks?"

"Was on my way to his room".

"Sneaking in, you mean, at this time of the night?" she smiled.

"Call it what you want. I've got some things to be settled, so." Sam quickly changed subject when he asked "And how about you, where're you staying?"

"Used G's house last night and, well, should go there by now, again. I arrived last night in Los Angeles. Your Director asked me to join a NCIS team, so I hoped to be working with you, but… Well, have to work early tomorrow so I'd better go." Another smile appeared on her face. "Makes me wonder how Owen Granger got home, since I still have his car in here."

Sam bowed his head and gently kissed her on her cheek. "Take care, Chris. Hope to see you around soon".

"Will do so Sam. And please, take wise decisions," she said. Then she turned around to leave, suddenly eager to get to the place Callen called home.

Sam Hanna looked at the two private hospital rooms on this corridor and shivered as he realized they hosted two of his team members. What went so wrong in this case?

* * *

_**And what can go wrong from now on? Hope you liked this chapter! Thanks for reading!**_


	7. Chapter 7

Right… there was not a lot of action in that last chapter and it might be time to 'leave the hospital-drabble!

_**Remember, this story is just MY story and the one the real writers come up with in S5 will logically be so very, very different from this one! Hope you'll forgive me ..**__. _

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**Chapter 7 | On their Way**

"Hetty?"

She heard him ask. That was the moment she realized her lead agent was on his way back. But would it be wise, would it not be too soon to inform him?

"What about Chris and Paris, Granger and Gibbs? What's going on?" She looked around, only to find there was no time to ponder on the matter of when to inform him. His blue eyes weren't only asking, they were demanding, hard as steel and she remembered having seen him behaving just like this after one of his earlier interrogations of Marcel Janvier.  
Yes, Hetty realized he had every right to know what was going on. However, she did have her doubts if he was able to process all that was going on. Heck, even she had trouble to think clearly after the call of Owen Granger!

"Hold on Mr. Callen. I really need to make another call. But be sure, there is plenty of time for a proper explanation, I owe you, dear boy."  
First things first. Somebody had to get Janvier away from the boatshed, fast, before things might get out of hand completely. And since there were no agents available right now, Hetty needed to trust the two guards should manage with some help of either LAPD or some other agency.

/€/€/€/€/

**Earlier…**

It had been another 'one of these nights' for Chris. She was glad she'd seen Sam, glad to see he was looking better than the reports mentioned. Still, she could have used some more sleep than the poor three hours she just had after falling asleep so soon in Callen's arms.  
Well, at least she came in early at this temporary work address. She needed to get Owen Granger's car back of course, grateful that she had been able to use it and grateful too that he did not call to return it last night. There would be some time left to spend in the gym and perhaps on the shooting range before the others would come in.  
Chris Young had been shot and severely hurt a year ago and had recovered nearly completely when another period of recovery was needed. Her left shoulder and longue would probably always be a bother and that was the reason why she still had not been cleared for active field duty yet. Mentally she suffered too, severely. The scars inside were less clear for others and she tried to keep it that way. Callen knew, he had suffered when she suffered.

She really liked to work out. One session of climbing the rock wall and some exercise with the mechanical boxing sparring partner and she was sweaty all over. A shower and a breakfast break later she headed to the armory, took a Glock 22 and a 27 and another Sig, just to try which suited best.  
Definitely most happy with the use of the 27, she put away the glasses and headset and then noticed she had been watched. A rare but well-meant encouraging smile appeared on the face of Owen Granger, who had been studying the way she was shooting and the results.

"You'd better take that Glock 27 indeed, Miss Young. You might want to keep this one with you. I trust you brought back my car?"

"Keys are on your desk, Sir."  
Yes, he had noticed. Owen Granger had simply had been looking for her in the building after he finally had read her files, noticing she was a very all-round agent in fact who had a pretty bad time too. What puzzled him was how this woman had managed to break through the high and thick walls that G. Callen had put up in the past.

She cocked her head. "Anything else you want to know?" He blinked some times and scraped his throat, a habit he himself hardly noticed anymore. 'How come she knew he wanted to know all about this previous mission on Guam?'

"Not really, no," he answered. A light smile appeared on his face as he remembered he once mentioned the thing about interrogation and that it was no skill but a 'God-given-gift' of being able to look into a person's soul and knowing if somebody's telling the truth or they were hiding things. Back then, he had not known Chris Young.  
He repeated "Not really, no. It can wait, Miss Young. It can wait."

/€/€/€/€/

At 7.25 AM Eric Beale stood on the small platform, using a simple referee whistle to catch everybody's attention.  
"Really? A whistleblower in the LA Headquarters. 'Espionage, Murder and Revenge'. That's Michael Caine", Tony DiNozzo recited.

"You silly, it's a sign to come up in ops," Kensi answered with a kind smile. The three of them followed her. Once there, they were surprised Nell and Granger were waiting for them as well.

"Right. Good you are all in," Granger started. Nearly unnoticed, he nodded at the smalle redhead information analyst. "Nell?"  
Her light brown, nearly golden eyes quickly flashed to each of the team members. "Okidoki. What I have in here for each of you is a set of earwigs, button-cams, one burn phone and a new iPhone with a pre-dial function for sending pictures directly to ops. For Kensi, Grace and Tony I have three sets of fake ID's. Chris, we'll need to contact your agency how to arrange some for you too", she summarized. "Besides, there's a short version of the intel on Isaac Sidorov, Marcel Janvier and I believe Eric put something about dismantling nuclear weapons as well, all on your iPhones, filed as 'trip advisor'. Then there's a credit card for necessary clothes, transportation, hotel and the tickets—"

Owen Granger took over. "I'm sending the four of you to Paris. There's work to be done in there. Kensi, you'll be assigned as team leader for this mission. Chris Young has clearance to work on diplomatic levels, is fluently in French. Hers and Grace Stevens' Russian is outstanding and that might come in handy with Sidorov. Both DiNozzo and Chris Young have visited Paris before. I trust your team is about the only team that should be able to trace Janvier's daughter and find Isaac Sidorov in that city. Be prepared. Your flight will leave in half an hour, so grab your go-bags," he concluded.

"Ah. Paris, je t'aime!"

"Your French is excellent as well, so I notice," Grace said with a deadpanned expression, "Maybe you can teach us once we're on our way?"

/€/€/€/€/

**At nearly 33 000 feet**

"Still… I don't get it. Paris. What does Granger exactly expect of us?" Grace looked at the others. "Don't get me wrong, I'd love to see the city for once. But what is our jurisdiction? What if we find that guy Siderov?"

Kensi remembered the action of the team in Romania, operation Comescu. Thát had been a black operation but so far, Granger had not said a word about it. "He'll probably let us know. Perhaps he needs to contact Director Vance, or the French counterpart of our agency. And if we don't know once we arrive, well, then let's ask him."

Grace nodded and then she asked "Sounds reasonable indeed. Have you had any cases overseas at all?"

"Been to France before. We needed to get a witness in secured protection to the US. And Berlin, where we had the car crash. Then, there was Mexico, we've had some cases to work out in Mexico too. But frankly, I have no clue how things were arranged…" Tony reacted.

"Mexico, Romania, Prague. Black ops or in co-operation with the local authorities. And Guam, but it was different of course." Kensi looked at Chris. "You were on Guam. And I know you were in Moscow too. Anywhere else?"  
"In The Hague, in my home country of course. France, for a while in Marseille and for half a year in Paris, so I know the city. Some weeks in Berlin and nearly two years in Brazil. And Washington, half a year."

"Wow, that's quite a career indeed," Grace reacted.  
It wasn't anything she had expected of this woman. Obviously Chris Young was leading a nomadic life, some people simply preferred that. Kensi and Tony were definitely more used to work from a base-station, and she herself, well.  
Grace Stevens had been a NCIS agent for the past three years and she liked her job like she had done her previous ones at the NSA and CIA too. However, she had been working far too long as a loner and for once she thought about settling down, somewhere, somehow. Perhaps there would be a place in a team like this, she certainly looked forward to it, right now. She was done with the long undercover jobs, done with performing as someone else. Grace longed for a more steady life by now.

All four of them paused for a while when the flight attendants supplied them with a lunch.  
"How many meals have you had in the past weeks above the clouds, Chris?" Tony asked when he noticed she yawned, nearly unseen, yet he caught the moment.  
She looked at him, surprised he mentioned it. "Really, I don't know. It's the third intercontinental flight in nearly two weeks."

"You must be exhausted then," Kensi said, "did you catch enough sleep?"  
Much to her surprise, Kensi saw Chris redden. "I ehm, fell asleep soon enough last night, but woke up far too soon." She didn't have to tell where, did she? Or that she simply slept terrible? Would Kensi understand? And well, Grace and Tony did not need to know why, so why share. Chris decided to change subject. "So, how was Deeks?"

"Still quiet, which is very awkward if you'd know him a bit better. His new teeth should be okay already, and the jaw will soon be better. So far, he should not use chewing gum or visit restaurants that serve bad steaks for the next couple of weeks. It means he's healing soon, physically. It'll be hard to get back to work as long as he cannot use his right hand. Sore ribs, headaches. Which maybe makes it better for me not to be around too much, you know how men behave when they're hurt."

It made Grace smile, as she had seen Deeks and Kensi react to each other. "How about Callen?" she asked.

"Much better! You should have seen him last night when Chris visited him. He immediately remembered!" Kensi answered. This time it was Chris who noticed the glimpse of sadness in the eyes of Grace Stevens.

/€/€/€/€/

**Meanwhile, at Cedars-Sinai**

The bad feeling Henrietta Lange already had about this mission worsened by the minute. With the so called quick response team on their way to Paris, Owen Granger finding himself a safe house, team Red somewhere in the middle of the nowhere of the US, she had to rely on others, on the guards and LAPD, to get Marcel Janvier out of the always unnoticed boathouse. A safe place that was now compromised and maybe they could not use again. The safety of at least four other agents that could not be guaranteed any longer. And three of her best agents ever hospitalized.  
Hetty inhaled deep, the turmoil needed to pass and there was one way she say right now to get everyone sharp as soon as possible. She hoped it would work out…

/€/€/€/€/

**Somewhere high over the Atlantic Ocean**

"Grace… I did not know you—you cared. I'm sorry." Chris quietly said as she studied the disappointment in Grace Stevens' eyes.

"How would you know? I never heard of you before and you never met me before. So… It's just that—he. You know, over half a year ago I met Callen for the first time, although I heard so many things about him before. We talked a lot since we found out about so many things of our childhood we had in common. I concluded that I would be like Hetty in future. Married to the job. And then I wanted to know how he did it, go on and on. I asked if he was married or had a relationship, and he answered 'not at the moment'. We had great fun, a night out… Nothing happened Chris, but. Yes, I care. He did not tell me about—you. He mentioned Paris though".

"Paris? That's strange…"

"You don't know Paris? Agent Summerskill?" Grace now asked surprised.

"Never heard of a woman called Paris."

Kensi had overheard their talk, knowing it was not polite but still she felt the urge to intervene at this moment. "It was in the period Callen was injured and we were told Chris had died."  
"You—died?" Tony now curiously asked.

"Scared now?" she commented, a faint smile on her face. "No, I'm alive. And kicking. Simple Minds that is."

"No need to get rude I'd say. It's not that simple what I just heard. 'Waking the dead'. Great series. But tell us, Chris, what happened?"

"It's like Kensi said. I—got shot and Callen got hurt. I was nearly dead, can't remember a thing. We met again, months and months later. That's all." In fact, she did not feel the need to share anything more.

"It's called destiny, girls. Some things simply happen. I know all about it." Tony sighed. "Maybe I'm gonna catch some sleep now I still can. Too old for all partying all night with you, my angels."  
Kensi shook her head. Destiny, 'moy angel' as the villain of those days had called Chris. So coincidental, this conversation.

And it reminded her, again, that she needed to hear from Tony what happened and why Ziva left.

/€/€/€/€/

**Meanwhile, back at Cedars-Sinai**

Oh, she hoped it was a wise decision.  
"As I mentioned, Mr. Callen, I had to make a quick call. In fact, it was based on something that had to be taken care of quickly too. And I made one more serious decision. You see. It is about this place you work, with the canoe. Remember?"

He nodded, he remembered the place and he had described it to Hetty days before.

"There then. You know. Now, you met so many people the last few days. It's been hard for you to see them, but forgot who they were and how you were related."

He nodded once more, but now felt the need to inform her about Chris. "Last night, Kensi brought a friend with her. Or maybe not her friend. But I knew, Hetty. She needed to get rid of nightmares. Y'see, I remembered that. A nurse shooed her after we fell asleep. You know, I even remembered her name, Chris."

"Good. You remember. So you might have heard me calling her name?"

"I did. You're worried. Maybe I can help."

_- Don't let me go too far, please -_ Hetty thought.  
With the same patient look in her eyes, she answered "Yes, dear boy. Maybe you can help. But before I know for sure, I want you to talk to some others."

"Shrinks? Docs? You're not too sure about me?" he could not help feeling something was off, looking at her serious face.

"Not really, no. But in a way, I hope it'll help you to make a clear decision. Tell me, Mr. Callen, do you know what 'Black Swans' are?"  
There was a short but clear flashback of a paper folded swan and some remark about tails and Chernobyl. He blinked his eyes, it was gone and then, he answered without thinking "Black Swans, things that never occurred before, come unexpected and have an outcome that is not to be predicted. High stakes, maximal risks. Hardly ever to be turned into a perfect storm."

"Right. And at this moment, two Black Swans are around. I hope we can handle them." Hetty responded. Then, she stood up and opened the door. "Look at the first, Mr. Callen."

The moment he saw Deeks and Sam walking in, his eyes became hard as steel while his throat was tight. He tried swallowing the feeling away. The others heard him gasp, saw him get up and before they knew it, he had taken a trash bin and started to throw up, time after time, till he finally caught breath again and said "God no, the bastard. I should have killed him indeed."

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**Hope you liked this chapter, thank you so much for reading! Your comments are very welcome, of course.**


	8. Chapter 8

DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters are not mine. I am grateful CBS & Shane Brennan let us use them for the sake of the story. It is fun mixing them all up though, and add a little of my own.

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**Chapter 8 | You, too?**

Not having heard anything about Sam, his best friend, and knowing how Marcel Janvier had managed to communicate with Sidorov, was one of the worst things Callen had experienced so far. For all he knew, both Deeks and Sam had died and he would feel responsible for ever. He had known, gut feeling, that Janvier was a devious planner who had killed some of his team before. Somehow, his brain must have wanted to block any deep feelings of guilt about an ended friendship or probably even deeper, brotherly love, by the betrayal that he should have prevented.

The moment he saw Sam entering, with Deeks, his world was turned upside down once more.

Hetty was the one who had chosen the most unconventional method of confronting Callen with his wellbeing and his team again and it had scared her to think what might happen. It turned out, however, like she had hoped.

The anger, combined with the sadness in his eyes, however, hurt her more than Hetty had expected. Once he got back up, he avoided eye contact with the others, keeping his shoulders slumped… No, she did not know if it had been the wisest decision for his wellbeing after all.  
It was not only the reaction of Callen she had feared, Hetty also was not too sure about Sam's and Deeks' either.  
All of them were silent for a while. She decided to take another step.

"You—So far I did not dare to tell the three of you how the others were. Mr. Hanna, you asked yourself why your partner had not come to visit you, and we, that is your lovely wife Michelle, Miss Blye and myself, let you know he was on a mission. We all were unsure if you could handle this… situation and neither how Mr. Callen would deal with it. Yet here we are, and you are much stronger than anyone had expected."  
She noticed the gaze of Deeks going over the others and she felt the urge of letting him know how sorry she felt for him. "Detective Deeks. This—"

"This is all my fault! I am the one who should have noticed, I should have known," Callen suddenly blurted out. "And I let you all down." "Whát!" he then continued, seeing the others staring at him.

"G… It's not what Michelle told me. Or Kensi. You saved them. And it's not you who betrayed us," Sam reacted carefully. "I failed. I should have been sharper, yet I could not even protect my own wife. And…" he swallowed some times before he could continue. "And I was the one who was toplofty. Dzjeez Deeks, I should have known better. There's no way I can make this up to you. Not ever."

"Oh goody."  
The anger, the denial, the betrayal, the guilt… how could she manage it when her agents themselves were unable to deal with it? Once more, she nearly whispered "oh goody."

The three men looked at their managing director who appeared to be more in despair than they'd ever seen.  
"Hetty?"  
She read him like a book. Yes, Callen worried about her like he would have worried about his mother. Never mind what others said or thought, G. Callen cared deeply for his team. He'd do anything in his power to protect the people he had learned to consider as his 'family' and prevent them from getting hurt. This temporary memory loss must have been caused by blocking the feeling that he had: seeing that all slipped through his fingers, uncontrollably, which must had traumatized him more than anything else so far.  
But Hetty Lange needed neither his, nor the team's, worry right now. Therefore, she started again, this time trying to hide her feelings better.

"What we have is a… situation. I can find no exact words for it, but you may well be aware of the fact that this situation bothers me more than anything else. The three of you were victims of—of persons beyond evil. Despite the fact that all three of you are relatively safe in this place, there are people at this very moment being transported to safe houses, other prisons or are, for crying out loud, unaware of any dangers," she said, briefly letting her gaze go over her so very talented agents. Then she let out another, inaudible, sigh through her nose. She slowly shook her head and continued. "I asked Director Vance for a time out and Granger took over. He made decisions that would not have been mine. I'm afraid we definitely have to deal with 'Black Swans' and for now, I want to know if you feel up to fight them."

/€/€/€/€/

**On board of US Airways 754**

The lights were turned off for the night. Only some passengers were awake by now.  
Yes, Chris Young knew it would do her good, catching up some sleep, but somehow she never managed to fall asleep just like that, in planes. Next to her, Kensi had fallen asleep and in the opposite pair of chairs it was good to see Grace and Tony leaning towards each other, but in this state clearly unaware of that.  
Since falling asleep obviously was something her body seemed to refuse once again, she took the movie list to see what was on it and decided to pick season 3 of Greys Anatomy. Chris finally dozed off watching McDreamy and McVet.

/€/€/€/€/

**Overseas, somewhere in Louisiana | Team Red**

"This is about the most boring assignment in the most boring surrounding that I can remember so far," Dave confessed to Claire. "Simply can't get it, why did Granger not send us to Paris?"  
"Yeah. By now I think we deserved it, a nice trip abroad. I've seen enough of this and I'm sure Homeland Security could deal with this without us."  
The two of them had a cup of coffee while watching Paris outside, discussing something she'd probably share later with the team leader of HS.

"Well, maybe there's some new development after all", Roy interrupted their short conversation. "Security breaches in Los Angeles, for example. Nell Jones just contacted me, it appears Hetty Lange is back at the Office of Special Projects and, listen to this, Owen Granger will be in a safe house. Which is—weird. Paris needs to contact Hetty ASAP, so maybe your wish will be the command in the end."

/€/€/€/€/

**Back in Los Angeles, Cedars-Sinai**

"I won't be of any use like this", Deeks' short response was the first one to Hetty's question.

"If Deeks won't be around, neither will I," Sam reacted. "I mean, we're sort of a team and we need each other, true?"  
Hetty looked up to that remark. The most traumatizing experience of seeing the other one being tortured must have bonded the two of them. In a way, she was glad about it, since all of them had overheard Sam mentioning plain and simple that he had trouble with the 'different' way Deeks dealt with cases. They must have found a moment to discuss this matter without any others around. 'Good', she thought.

"What is it you want me to do?" His voice more soft, his posture so much more unsure than she could remember ever to have seen before, Callen appeared to be the only one at this moment who was willing to step into action.

"Wait, G. You're not in a position to step back into action right now. Not—"

"Sam needs to have your back. Big Seal needs to protect vulnerable partner," Deeks tried to smile, but the flash of pain that hit his jaw forced him to get his face quickly back into a more serious expression that did not fit with his words.

She waited until all three of them realized that none of them would not leave without the others. Deep inside, she was proud of her team, yet each of their uncertainties worried her.  
"The three of you have to fight your own demons and nightmares. Your experiences during the last week have been frightful and I cannot imagine to what extent it will influence your way of working. What I do know is that the words Mr. Hanna just spoke are so true. You are a team and you need each other. Now, what I want from you, and that includes you too, detective Deeks, is to enforce the team that is now on its way. I need you in Paris."

"Texas?" Sam asked.

"Paris, France," Hetty Lange briefly explained.

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_Thanks for reading! _


	9. Chapter 9

**DISCLAIMER:**  
Recognizable characters are not mine, hopefully CBS & Shane Brennan let me just play with them. I promise I'll return them, healed and all!

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**_Thank you for your reviews so far! Hope you'll enjoy this second chapter as well. Please do not hesitate to leave any comments, they're very welcome. Meanwhile, so many spoilers for S5 came through. This story is of course far from how the show will go on…_**

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**Chapter 9**

"Are you sure about that?"  
Director Vance was not happily surprised with the remark of the operations manager from Los Angeles. Of course he was completely briefed on the enormous betrayal that had taken place and the cruel torture on Deeks and Sam Hanna. They were found after Eric, with a little help of Arkady Kolcheck, managed to find all warehouses that could be related to Siderov. What followed were several raids of SWAT-teams of LAPD and some other NCIS teams until the agents were finally found and rescued.  
Hetty Lange had just added to the negatives the fact that the security of the boatshed had been breached, assistant director Owen Granger had moved to a protected surroundings, the shooting and killing of two of the men that were supposed to guard Marcel Janvier and the sudden transfer of the latter to another prison.  
And now she made another suggestion. Send the three men of the team, those three that were hospitalized even until their phone call, to Paris as well.

"Yes Leon, I am. They all are aware of their own and each other's physical and emotional injuries. Callen insisted to get back into the field. Sam doubted. He would have preferred to stay home with his wife and kids. He reasoned though that someone needed to have Callen's back and that the sooner this case is over, Michelle is safe too. Sam was also the one who persuaded Deeks to join them. Detective Deeks suffers from injuries that will keep him off the street, but he agreed to join as a liaison between Eric and Nell and the team in Paris. So, yes, I am sure about it," she ended the rather long oration. "And the team Owen sent to Paris already, needs a backup Leon. They are unaware of the fact that Kensi and Chris might be in danger."  
Discussing her agents with director Leon Vance, or with Gibbs, she always used the first names of her agents, although Callen would always be Callen, never G. 'G was only a letter', she had told him once.

"The welfare of agents is secondary to the mission, Henrietta. We've discussed that matter many times before. It always has been and always will be. But you know that we need to stop any possible sale of those nuclear weapons, although it may be slightly out of our jurisdiction at the moment."

"You feel the need to share with any of the CIA? The French or Russian authorities?" Hetty asked.  
Much to her surprise, Vance replied "Owen and I did talk things over with the Dutch intelligence service, hence the addition of Chris Young to this team. Is Nell working on her paperwork? All should be arranged once their plane arrives in Paris, which should be in… about twenty minutes from now."

"The girl might be in trouble before she starts working in Paris. If, and I emphasize the IF, Marcel Janvier has associates in here that managed to get any footage of the persons that visited the boathouse, by sound and face recognition, somebody might know who she is and where she's going. It might compromise this whole operation."

"So Hetty, you're suggesting I should withdraw her from this team? Don't know what Owen told you, but Chris Young was the one who did the last interrogations of The Chameleon and she was sharp."

"Owen hasn't mentioned anything and I'm surprised you chose her. He did not know anything of her backgrounds, but you did. So…"  
He interrupted once more "The welfare of agents is secondary to the mission, Henrietta. Yes, I am well aware of the relationship there is between her and Callen and I trust both of them will act professionally."

"She is not NCIS Leon."

"Neither is Deeks yet we work with him as if he were. This team in Paris may appear a coincidental group of people working together but with their backgrounds, it will work out well. Trust me."

She tried to suppress a sigh. He probably was right, but Hetty Lange always picked her people, her team, with great care and never as tentative as this felt. She had not had a say in the formation of this team which left her feel somehow degraded.  
"I hear you, Hetty. Remember I've been in business long enough to know how it works. Sometimes we need to rush, but that does not mean we choose less careful and you know it. Now, keep Owen away and let's get back to business. You may send the three of them to Paris if it makes you feel better."

"Thank you, Leon. The other modification is that I want the Red Team in here."

"That—No, I prefer to keep them working in the field the way they work now. Let them keep searching, they're on their way to Miami because there is a lead to there and I am short of others to check it out. No discussions on that one."

"Right. Well, thank you so far. I'll let you know if anything comes up." Then, she rang off. Never mind the decisions the assistant director and the director had made so far, Hetty doubted and wondered if they had been wise in the end.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris, Orly airport**

Kensi had been right about one thing. There was a message from the headquarters in Los Angeles indeed but from Hetty herself and not, as she had expected, from Granger. The message itself worried and surprised her.  
Nell had followed the advice of Chris Young and had booked rooms at hotel Montebello, right between the Dutch and the Syrian embassies and in the heart of the city, very close to the Eifel tower and about 10 minutes from the American embassy, or the local CIA office, in case they might need it.

"Listen up", she said. "We have some new developments. Hetty is back in business, Granger needed to step out. She requests a split up, which means Tony and Grace stay in Montebello. Chris, she wants you to stay at the Dutch embassy, director Vance arranged that."

"But…" Chris wanted to know why. Then she realized Kensi herself wasn't too happy with the situation either. "Where will you stay?"

"Another hotel near the Eifel tower called 'Trocadéro'," she answered. "Really, I don't like it either. Let's have lunch together and call the office, I want to hear who made this decision and why."

"Girls, girls, calm down. I'm pretty sure there was a good reason for this. But we should remember Gibbs' rule 15," Tony smiled, carefully looking around the arrival gates at the airport. "We're going to leave this place and find ourselves a lunchroom indeed, somewhere."

"Rule number 15?" Grace wanted to know.

"'Always work as a team', that is. No matter who stays where, we still have to work with each other so we'll find a place to get together anyway. So far, we still don't have any idea where to start and what to do. So. Let's go."

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles**

"They don't know?" Sam asked Hetty. She had just carefully told him that Chris Young and Kensi might have been recognized by somebody that worked with the Chameleon and it might get them into trouble.

"Not yet. Remember the difference in time zones. No, let them rest for the night. I will contact Miss Blye at their time tomorrow morning and inform her about it. She'll tell the others and will take care of tasking them too. It'll be at least another 36 hours before you will be there too, Mr. Hanna, remember that."

He nodded. In the end, he had been glad Deeks agreed to come with him and Callen, although it was clear he was far too weak to be out on the streets. But he insisted, just like Sam had, to go and be with the ones to chase Siderov.

"Now, go home to your family, Mr. Hanna. You need to get some rest and Michelle and the kids need you. And remember, if you don't feel up to go, let me know. I would fully understand."  
He nodded, gratefully and eager to leave. "Thank you, Hetty. I'll be here tomorrow morning."

The resilience of the former Seal, or better, of this team, astonished her and left her overwhelmed with pride. However, she knew she had to be aware of any setbacks that might come after the awful torture he and detective Deeks went through. It was far from over, for those two agents. Neither was it for Callen and Kensi, or for herself, Hetty thought.  
Now all she had to do was to wait and find out if Siderov and his men were to be found in Paris and if so, how.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris, rue Eblé**

It was as if she had never left Paris. Chris entered her former workplace at the Dutch embassy like all visitors would do, but right after identifying herself, she was immediately welcomed by the head of security.  
"Welkom terug!" [Welcome back], the tall and strong built man enthusiastically said. Henk Smid hardly changed at all. Sure, his dark hair was short as ever and seemed to have changed color just a bit and there were more wrinkles round his green than before, but he was still in great shape.  
Smid quickly checked his former co-worker. A sincere hug followed right after that. "You seem to get younger and stronger every time I see you, Chris," he smiled. Then he continued, more serious "you had a rough time in the United States and still you chose to stay there. Why not come back in here?"

"Lost some things, found some things," she answered in her mother tongue as well. Yes, she had a good time in here and being back felt a bit like coming home, but for a visit only. Hoewver, this time she would have preferred to stay with the others instead of being in here, being split up like they were. "Henk, did you get any information about why I am here instead of with the team I'm supposed to work with?"

"Something with special security measures and something with a formal dinner tomorrow at the Russian embassy that was planned yesterday. You're supposed to join our consul as a 'special coordinator crisis control'. But first things first. We have a vacant room for this week and I suggest you get some sleep soon. You look tired, Chris. How about an early meal out?"

She gladly accepted, looking forward to hear all the latest news from him and the others she used to work with, in another life.

/€/€/€/€/

In a small tavern nearby, Kensi, Tony and Grace had dinner while discussing how and where they would need to start looking for the Chameleon's daughter.  
"I know we need to, but can we please talk about that all first thing tomorrow morning? I'm so tired I could fall asleep in this delicious salad," Kensi said.

"Wrong and a pity for the salad, dear Miss Blye," Tony said. "One cannot think well, love well or sleep well if one has not dined well".

"Oh please Tony. Now you're teasing and we have to guess from which movie that is. Too tired 'honey'," Grace answered. "I'm done. Which direction to our hotel?"

"Let me guide you. Because 'a good traveler has no fixed plans and is not intent on arriving'. Lao Tzu. Your wish is my command."

"Alladin. And the first one about dining?" Grace laughed.

"No movie. Literature and theatre, Virginia Woolf."

"As I said, I'm too tired to think. Dinner was great, now please let me find some sleep." Kensi said it with a smile, but deep down she was eager to get to work, knowing however she needed to be sharp and clear the next day. And there was more, but nothing she felt she could share with the others.  
She missed Deeks more than she thought and she dreaded to be all alone in a hotel room, far away from Los Angeles, far away from her partner.

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_thanks for reading _


	10. Chapter 10

In case you're worried: Neither Callen, nor the NCIS-LA team, nor the Washington team or team Red belong to me. They all belong to CBS! I gladly use all characters and include only one of my own.

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**Chapter 10 | back in business**

It was something that suddenly popped up in her dreams so it seemed. What if she had not listened careful enough?  
Janvier, the Chameleon, had mentioned Paris so many times and here they were. But what if it had been a way to lure them away from Los Angeles? It was a thought she needed to share with Kensi and the others, as soon as she'd wake up again.  
The rest of this first night in Paris was finally one filled with sleep.

/€/€/€/€/

They had agreed to meet at 'la Romantica Caffée', near the École Militaire and in a very touristic part of the city. It was one of the places Chris Young knew from her past. The place usually was crouded with a mix of tourists, employees of nearby offices and students of the military school, but at this time of the morning it was quite quiet.  
Chris had managed to rent a motorbike for the next week, remembering how busy traffic in the city was and now waited at the sidewalk café for the others to arrive.  
Meanwhile, she enjoyed watching people going by, feeling once more at home in the city. She probably looked like a true Parisienne as an older woman asked her in French if they could join her at this table and started an animated conversation about the fact that the Eifel Tower had been evacuated once more the day before.

From a distance, she saw the others walking towards the café, obviously unaware of her already being there. 'Blend in the surroundings' and it still worked, Chris thought with a smile. Her paranoia suddenly took over as she noticed a grey car that came from the same way as her team members and inched at the same pace as they were walking.  
"Attendez s'il vous plait, je dois contacter une amie", she said to the lady as she called Kensi.

"Kensi, Chris speaking. I think you're being followed, so don't look back. Walk pass me, go inside the café. There's a side entrance as well, walk out right away. You'll see the large monumental building on the other side of the road. Go pass the entrance gates and into the building itself. It's a museum. I'll meet you in there."

Professional as she was, Kensi quickly mentioned to Tony and Grace to go inside straight away and they passed Chris without any glance of recognition.

"Vraiment pathétique. Pour les gardes c'est la énième fois ce qui se passé [really absurd. For the guards it's the umpteenth time this happens]", she reacted to the older woman, meanwhile discretely watching the car that stopped in front of the café indeed. Then she decided to call for the waiter to order. "Aimez-vous aussi un autre café? [would you also like another cup of coffee]" she asked the lady.  
She took her purse and phone and took some pictures of the driver, hoping that the Los Angeles analysts received those indeed and were able to identify the person.  
Chris went inside, paid and came back with the coffee. The car was still parked, probably waiting for the others to come out. Only minutes later, two men left the car, walked straight past her table and returned soon after. Again, she managed to get some pictures. Trying to focus on what the older lady was telling, she did hear them say in Russian to the driver 'oni ushli' [they're gone]. The men got in and after a slow drive past the café the car then accelerated and disappeared soon.

She simply needed to remember the number plate. After thanking the friendly lady, Chris Young stood up, walked around the block of buildings and went to the École Militaire to meet with Tony, Kensi and Grace.

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles, OSP NCIS, ops**

"So, all of them were sent by her?" Nell asked Eric.

"And what does that tell you, Miss Jones?" As ever, both of them had not heard Hetty coming in.

"What?" Nell simply reacted.

"Both of you just noticed that there were seven pictures sent to your system, all of them by Miss Young. So, what does that tell you, I asked," Hetty repeated.

"She knows how to use the camera", Eric said, immediately shocked himself by this remark towards their office manager.

"She's well aware of her surroundings and is a sharp agent," Nell quickly said.

"And, Miss Jones, she knows how to use the camera. Now, Mr. Beale, what keeps you from running facial recognition programs?"  
Hetty asked. It was good to hear those two bantering right now. She missed it and from what she could imagine, her other agents might not be in the mood for it at all.  
"Let me know if you find something", she told the tech operator and analyst as she turned around, left the operations center and went downstairs to her own desk.

The simple fact that there were Russians in Paris who had recognized any team members had her worried. It was time she contacted Kensi Blye and tell her why she had made the decision to split up the team.  
And again, she wondered why so many things had gone wrong these weeks and if she still was capable finishing this case to the end. All she could do is give advice.

/€/€/€/€/

**Flight DL 8553**

Even in the dim light of the early morning in the small jet on their way to Paris, the bruises on the very pale face of his younger coworker reminded Callen of what happened. Deeks had been in a deep sleep for the last few hours already. Well, he obviously needed it and Callen was glad the detective did not suffer from any nightmares right now, right here.  
What worried him more was the fact that he had seen how Sam's hands had been trembling when he held a cup of tea and once again when they were having a meal on board.  
His partner must have felt his gaze as he grumbled: "Still shaky indeed G. No need to mention it."

"You think it is wise Sam, the two of you doing this? I mean, look at Marty. And those side effects, how will you cope with all of them? I should have stopped you from joining me."

"That's crap and you know it. Hetty would never have allowed you to go alone. Besides, Deeks and I are perfectly able to do the things we supposed to be doing." This time it was Sam being stubborn.

"Never mind. I'll have your back, big fellow," Callen smiled.

"No need for that, G. We'll be a team as ever and we know what our mission is. Hunting down Sidorov." The determined face of his partner stopped Callen from making any further remarks. This whole thing would never have happened if he had been more resolute in his opinion on getting Janvier back to LA, or if he had been sharper in discovering what the guy was up to.

/€/€/€/€/

**In one of the exhibition spaces of Hôtel des Invalides**

"So it is Chris and me, you think?" Kensi was surprised by the call of Hetty. "The boathouse… what's next?" She was quiet for a while and listened, then she looked up at Chris. "Uh-huh. That's tonight. Yes, we'll plan something and let you know. Will Eric send us any intel?" Another pause. "Really! At my place. It's—it surprises me. Sure. Thanks"

"What was all that about?" Grace asked. "I mean… first this at that café and now what did you hear?"

"Hetty. Somebody managed to get through the secured fire walls and got sound and vids of people going in and out the boathouse. Some of them—got shot. The same somebody might have pictures of me and Chris."

"That boathouse where Marcel Janvier is staying?"

"The very same. Hetty had a team of LAPD take him out to another prison. Granger might also be a target and he's moved to a safe house."

"Let me guess. It is also why we're not all in the same hotel?" Grace said.

"So. I got the message. We just have to stay alive long enough to not get dead and get to find the bad guys before they find us?" Tony added.

"You might say that. One exception though. Chris is going straight in the belly of the beast tonight", Kensi said. "There's a formal reception at the Russian embassy tonight and it seems the highest powers managed to get a get together with lots of Russian businessmen. Guess who's invited too and has accepted the invitation?"

* * *

_Guess who? _  
Your reviews are welcome, as ever!


	11. Chapter 11

_disclaimer: We all know that no fanfiction writer owns any characters. I am very grateful to 'use' G. Callen and more recognizable characters in this story._

A/N Though by now we all know 'Ascension' is a complete different story than the one I'm writing, I'm going to stick by my own plot, of course. Hope you'll stick with it too!

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**Chapter 11**

"My former coworker told me something about a formal dinner at the Russian embassy indeed and that I am to join the Dutch consul. But he did not mention anything about other people," Chris told Kensi.

Kensi, team leader right here, looked at the other woman. "Well, to be honest, I don't really like what Hetty just mentioned. Director Vance contacted some people of your intelligence agency and in one way or another, they managed to create a name for the work you do at the embassy."  
She nodded and said "'special coordinator crisis control'. I will have diplomatic immunity and in the meantime, some extra rights to operate in foreign countries."

""Now I know why your imitation of Doutzen Kroes was so real. Same country, same mother tongue!" Tony smiled. "Yet you're not Dutch? I mean, the director never employs people from other countries. No agency does that."

It was complicated and she knew it. "I used to be Dutch, or rather, I had a double nationality. But yes, I used to work for the Dutch government. It is only recently that I changed because—things that happened." Actually, she did not like to mention all those things. It was not her they were talking about, it was about a case to be solved. "But tell us Kensi, what did Hetty tell you?"

"You are probably about to meet Isaac Sidorov."

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles, OSP NCIS, ops**

"Any luck yet on the face rec?" Nell asked Eric.

"Nope Nada-Nieñte. Well, she did have some feet to cover and taking pictures, unnoticed, of someone you don't trust is tricky indeed. So, it might take some—" A loud beep interrupted his words.  
"Here's something on the number plate," Eric went on in his never-ending enthusiasm. "Which is… interesting."

"How's that?" his pixie-haired small colleague wanted to know.

"The car is not registered in France. It's no rental either. So it means it is…" Eric then started working on his keyboard once again, "a fake number plate, a stolen car or a car from outside France."

"Y'gotta be kidding. Bet it is none of those three. Can I pick too?" Nell said with a wicked smile. "None of those three, but all three at once."

"And we have a winner!" Eric jubilated. Then, he looked nearly disappointed at the small analyst. "How did you know?"

"Just guessing. Crap. This is no real interesting information to let Kensi and the others know though. Let's hope there's something useful once photosync does what it should do," Nell said.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | 14.25 PM local time**

Kensi told the others "And we know now what Washington wants us to do when we face Sidorov. We arrest him and take him back to the United States."

Grace listened and then remarked "Oh common Kensi. Did Hetty really tell you that?"

"Well, she actually used different words. Like 'an extradition once we captured him'. We should get him out of the country for interrogation in the US."

"First things first. You're about to meet the guy, Chris. We should discuss how to keep in touch since we're not invited to the party," Tony thought out loud.

"As usual, the earwigs and a button-cam should do," Kensi said. "We each received a set and it should be not that hard to follow both on screen with the instructions Nell gave me."

"Although I don't like to, the consul wants to meet with me to discuss my role for tonight and the things that go around between The Netherlands and Russia. After all, if somebody asks I need to be able to respond as if I know no better. However, it means I won't be here for further planning with you."  
It was really different from what Chris had prefigured when the four of them traveled to Europe. To her, it wasn't the real teamwork, nor like the missions when she used to work all on her own.

"We'll let you know where we will stay tonight. If you have any suggestions of a nearby place?" Kensi wanted to know.  
She did not and Grace suggested to rent a large van or find something in a house or hotel.

"Hey, Chris?" Tony said. "Take care. So will we. Take of you, I mean."

She looked up. He might feel the same. The team spirit that she expected was not really around. It needed to be forged, but she did not know if there was any time for that.  
"Thanks Tony. Watch the girls too, will you?" she smiled at him. "We are a team, right?"

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | airport Charles de Gaulle, 18.40 PM, local time**

When the airplane entered the descent, Deeks woke up. His jaw started to hurt even more, probably because of the change in pressure, but he felt ever so much better after having slept for hours on a row.  
Once the plane had landed, they were allowed to use their phones again. One single message from Nell Jones, telling them through the team leader's phone that there were rooms booked at Trocadéro' for the three of them, the same hotel as Kensi was staying.

The drive from the airport to the hotel lasted just as long as driving in Los Angeles would take; the traffic was a bear. By the time they arrived, Sam was grumpy and obviously tired.

"How about a quick shower and dinner?" Callen asked. "We could invite Kenz and the others," he suggested immediately after.

"Shower first, will see about the rest later," Sam muttered.

Deeks definitely was more enthusiastic but then again, he had already had some sleep and was less tired.  
Although Callen did not want to impose his ideas upon his fellow team members – not now, he did not feel all that sure about himself nor about the others- he asked once again if Sam was up to having dinner after a shower. The usual lightness in his tone lacked as Sam responded positively in the end.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | Boulevard Lannes, 19.30 PM, local time**

For this occasion, she borrowed a casual but neat petrol green dress from the large wardrobe at the embassy. It fit perfectly and had a row of three buttons so she could easily install the small camera.  
Both her former colleague Henk Smid as the assistant of the consul had briefed her on the current intercommunication with Russia and there was little time left to read some files. Right before she left, Chris called to ask if all communication worked right and if they had found a place nearby.

"We'll be close by, there's a dark red Vivara-van parked opposite of the road, near Intertours, in case you need us," Kensi explained.

"Good to hear that. Enjoy your evening too, guys," Chris answered.

The driver that took her and the consul to the embassy was one of the many and they stepped out of the car on the boulevard itself. Once inside, she took notice of the large group of people. There were representatives of the Paris city government, businessmen from France, Holland and Russia and a mix of government personnel and embassy staff. So far, Chris did not recognize any of the others present, but she was aware there were still people coming in.

"So far I have not seen any familiar faces yet," she said, more or less to the wall but more particularly to her team outside. She did not hear anyone responding.

/€/€/€/€/

**In the van, outside the embassy compounds**

"Crap. There's no sound," Grace said. She had tried several times to receive any reaction from Chris, but something was not right. "Plugged in everything the way we should but there's nothing."

"Could it be a soundproof lounge? Heard that it was not that unusual in the good old Cold War times," Tony remarked.

"We should have thought about that earlier. And now?" Grace looked at the others.

"I can lip-read. But then again, not in Dutch or in Russian or French." Kensi said. Then she remembered how Eric once used a computer which beat her to it. By now, he should be around so she made a call.  
"Hey Eric, do us a favor please. We have visuals but no auditory contacts with Chris right now. Which program can we use to read what someone says?—Uhuh. Not in here?—You will. Thanks!"

/€/€/€/€/

**Meanwhile, inside**

Discussing things like the United Nations, the political situation in the Middle East and Al-Qaida, threats for Europe and possibilities for Russian citizens to come over for business in France or the Netherlands was not exactly her strongest point but Chris managed to share opinions and chat with lots of people in the room.

It was after she took something to drink and watched from a distance that someone behind her said "it must be a real interesting job, crisis control. Tell me, what things do you have to deal with?"

She turned around and immediately recognized him. She had seen pictures of him back at the Los Angeles screens but it took a while to remember what role he was playing. Vaziri. Iranian.  
Next to him, Sidorov himself.

_- "But if they are in there together… how—what did Janvier have to do as a broker?" Grace could not believe her eyes._

"Vy, kazhetsya, udivleny, Miss Young" [You seem to be… surprised], the Russian said.

"Da. Your partner seems to be, how shall I say, not European," she reacted, also in Russian.

Vasiri did not answer, he simply sent her a glare that Chris really did not trust.

"True. No togda, vam ne kazhetsya, chto gollandskiye libo. Ili ya dolzhen skazat', ne bol'she?" [But then, you don't seem to be that Dutch either. Or should I say, not anymore?] Sidorov said.

_- "For crying out loud, they can say anything to her and we don't know what. How soon can Eric get those translations done and in here?" Tony asked._

_"It should be a safe place where she is right now. After all, the inviolability of the diplomatic mission and its grounds should be guaranteed." Grace answered._

_"Eric let me know he'd be on it and he's always fast," Kensi said._

"Dlya real'nogo diplomaticheskogo personala yest' verkhovenstvo immunitet. [For real diplomatic staff there's the rule of immunity.] Now, Miss Young, how real would that be for you?" Sidorov asked.

_- "Something with immunity. Crap. How good is her cover story in fact?" Kensi said. In fact, she started to doubt everything._

Chris was glad the consul came towards her, asking if she was ready to leave as well. She nodded. Just as she was about to follow the consul, Sidorov leaned a bit forward and asked "How did you like Los Angeles, Christianne?" This, the button camera did not pick up.

She swallowed. What DID he really know, and how? This was wrong, very wrong. The panic that she had kept deep inside suddenly came up, trying to overwhelm her. Chris needed fresh air.

"Voel je je wel goed?" [Are you alright?] the consul asked, noticing she was quiet and pale by now.  
She nodded, desperately wanting to leave this place. Immediately after they left the gate to walk to the car, there were screaming tires of cars coming near. Before she had a chance to reach the car, someone grabbed her from behind, dragging her away from the car and away from the sideway.  
Chris struggled and did try to fight her way out but then she realized it was no use. She could not win this one.

* * *

_Thank you for reading! Your remarks, 'go-on's ' or 'booh's!' help me to go on, so let them hear!_


	12. Chapter 12

Thank you so much for your great reviews so far! I try to thank you personally, but the ones posting as 'guest' or 'reader' cannot be reacted to. So, here it is: thank you!  
As you all realize by now, this story is certainly AU now we've seen the promo's of S5x01, but it is still fun to play around with what might have happened…

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Disclaimer: it is this great team again that I gladly borrow for a while. Thank you, Mr. Shane Brennan & CBS!

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**Chapter 12**

There were footsteps on the sideway from at least three people. Then the sirens from a police car coming near. Shouting in French, in Russian. Running people.  
She fought, but there was no way Chris could escape from the strong arms that kept her away from the street; the hand that covered her mouth so that she could not scream. No way could she reach her team that was so close.  
She was frightened of what was going on, not realizing what happened and why her attacker stayed quiet too.

When she finally could take a look at the person that dragged her away so harshly, Chris could hardly believe her eyes.

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles, OSP NCIS, bit earlier**

Eric managed to summarize what the translation program had just read. "He knows Chris Young is not Dutch anymore, she is not really working for the Dutch government and therefor does not fall under the rules of diplomatic immunity."

"But you have seen the backstopping, Hetty. It was thorough." Nell said. "Director Vance even discussed it with the Dutch guys."

"Oh, but I have no doubts about your work, my dear girl. We all know we can trust you on that". The small office manager was quiet for a while. Then she said "Get me Miss Blye on the phone. I want Miss Young out of there."

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | minutes before**

It was clear that the Dutch consul now claimed Chris for another discussion with a group fo staff member of some sort. Again, they could not hear what it was about but at least it was less threatening.  
Still, Chris managed to keep visuals on Sidorov and the people he spoke to.  
There were two moments that Grace noticed Sidorov kept watching Chris' whereabouts too.

Kensi's phone rang and though the message she got was clear enough, it was also clear enough she did not like what she just hear. "Yes, Hetty, I do understand. We'll tell her—uh-huh, contact the director too." She rang off and simply told Grace and Tony that Hetty wanted Chris out of this case.

"She does not want to work with Chris anymore?" Grace reacted to what Kensi had just told the other two.

"I don't think it is that she does not want to. It's more because of what happened before. The boathouse, the Russians in here and now what went on tonight. Sidorov must have said things I still don't know, but according to what Hetty heard from Eric, the man knows more about Chris' background than he could or should know. She's a target now and Hetty convinced Vance that she might be a danger to us. She's not NCIS."

"So what? I mean, who cares if she's NCIS or not? To me what counts is that we're one man short from now on. Or well, in our case, one woman short," Tony said. "Do they know back there in Washington, in Los Angeles, in Amsterdam or where-ever, that every team working everywhere on this planet consists of four people? It is the only way to have each other's backs. We can and will have hers," he argued.

Kensi noticed the anger that suddenly appeared on Tony's face, but once again, before there was a chance to ask, there was a text message on her phone.

"Eric and Nell found a match with two of the pictures of this morning, now on screen", Kensi said. She showed them. "Driver was Mikhael Kondoljy, Russian. Known associate of Sidorov indeed. One of the others was, surprisingly, a Syrian, Musa el-Wasim."

"Syrian? How… odd. Remember that Chris mentioned that to Marcel Janvier?" Grace said.

And again, it was Kensi's phone that rang. She could not remember ever having seen Callen being busy like this, continuously answering phone calls. The number on her screen was one she'd always remember though: 'Deeks!  
"Hey there, good to hear you alive and kicking—What do you mean, having dinner at Tiffany's? It's breakfast at Tiffany's and—Dinner. Here. Marty?—Paris? But… We're at work—Lookout at Boulevard Lannes. Yes. Oh, yes. Yes. Touché indeed."

She knew she was blushing. She knew Tony and Grace noticed. Oh, she knew, but above all, her heart had skipped some happy beats and for once Kensi Blye did not care what others thought. She wanted to tell Marty Deeks that she loved the way he called her 'Fern' and how she had loved his kiss.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | 10 minutes later**

Besides the cars with drivers that were just outside the gates of the Russian embassy, waiting for the visitors that were one by one leaving by now, three new cars stopped at the other side of the wide boulevard.

"There. Is that one of the same guys Eric just told us about?" Tony asked, motioning at a man that just stepped out of one of those cars. "Because if he is, he won't be here alone. And he might know Chris is in and will leave the building soon." They saw five more men leaving the cars, crossing the road and casually

"We should warn her, let her stay in there." Grace said.

"Or have the cavalry assist us to get her out of there, safe", Kensi said as soon as she noticed a car parking next to them. The posture of the driver was very familiar to her; as ever the large former Seal was the one behind the steering wheel.  
Unseen from any possible watch on the other side of the street, she left the van and quickly discussed with Callen what to do.  
Deeks and Sam would stay behind, in the van, making a call to the French police for assistance while Grace and Tony would sneak in from behind the cars that were parked near the suspicious men.  
Kensi and Callen would approach the embassy entrance at the same time.

/€/€/€/€/

She struggled for freedom and managed to hit him more than once. Yes, he knew she was a good fighter and it hurt him to have to react this harsh. It was the only way to keep her out of danger right now.  
So many things to take care of. Getting her out of sight. Keeping her safe. Finding out who was behind this, what was going on. Trusting Tony, trusting Grace. Relying on Kensi's judgment on this one. Expecting Sam and Deeks being able to keep calm and act like he was used to from them. Footsteps close by. Keeping her forced down without being able to move.  
From a distance he heard Kensi explain calmly to somebody what was going on.  
Sirens, coming near, slower than he'd hoped. A female voice asking in French and afterwards in Russian if those men knew how to reach the Russian embassy – definitely Grace. Perfect way to distract any possible attackers.

And then, persons running away. Farther away, a car quickly pulling up and driving by. Seconds from that, Callen finally breathed out freely and let go of the violent grip. He saw the pure hate in Chris' eyes, immediately after her eyes widened in shock when she finally noticed who she had been fighting.

"You're good?" he asked. Kensi had simply announced that these men might wait for Chris so she should not be seen. As long as Callen did not know the complete story, he was concerned about this member of the quick response team more than he should be.

She nodded. "Yeah. Yes, I'm good."

He helped her up. "Sorry for what happened. There was no time to explain", he said. "Did I hurt you?" There would be bruises on her arms for sure but then again, his ribs hurt after she kicked him hard.  
He noticed scrapes on her elbow and knee. The green dress she wore was partly torn and from the ponytail, long curls escaped that Callen now automatically brushed away from her face.

"Why—How did you get here?" Chris asked him.

"Hetty sent us. No, Hetty asked us, in fact, and we wanted to."

"Us? You mean Sam's in here too?"

"And Deeks."

"They were in no condition last week. Neither were you," she said.

"This is not the place to talk about that. We need you off the street in here." Callen answered. Kensi came walking to them. "Let's go. Callen, take Chris to your car and get her out of here."

"Trocadéro?" He asked. Kensi nodded. For this night, it should do.

/€/€/€/€/

She was not as talkative as he was used to. "Sure you're okay Chris?"

"Of course I am," she answered.

"Why were you in there, in the embassy?" he needed to know. "Why alone, why not with Grace?"

"I wasn't alone. It was part of the job. From what I heard, your director Vance and Owen Granger arranged this meeting with some people of the Dutch intelligence agency."

"They could have arranged something for Grace too. She speaks Russian, you know."

"Yes. I know. Yes, they could have. I did not arrange anything." She was quiet for a while. "He knows I came from Los Angeles, Callen. Sidorov knows."

He raised his left eyebrow the way only Callen could and glanced at her. "Sidorov?" he asked. "You met Sidorov? And Vance knew about it?"

Chris looked at him, clearly not knowing what to say. She did notice the quick glance of concern in his eyes and then, he looked away. He clenched his jaw and kept watching the road.  
"You can park the car in there, 'parking seulement aux résidents hôtel Trocadéro'", she told him.

"Change of subject?"

"No. Just saying." She leaned back, suddenly exhausted from all of it. The serious business talk, the threats this guy Sidorov made, the way Callen had been so rough, this day was far from good.

He parked the car, looking at her and sensing the way she now felt. "Chris? We should discuss this later."

"Uh-huh. I'd die for a shower," she said.

"I did have different things in mind," Callen said. The sparkle in her eyes said she understood what he meant.

* * *

Thanks for reading!


	13. Chapter 13 Oh-oh

DISCLAIMER: All recognizable characters are not mine. I am grateful CBS & Shane Brennan let us use them for the sake of the story. It is fun mixing them all up though, and add a little of my own.

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_Remember, this story is just MY story and the one the real writers come up with in S5 will logically be so very, very different from this one! Hope you'll forgive me…_

* * *

**Chapter 13 | Oh-oh...**

He had taken a chair, leant it backwards on two legs until he reached the wall of the room and quietly enjoyed what he saw.  
She slept partly on her side, partly on her stomach, her body half covered by the sheets, her arm folded under a pillow, long curls spread out everywhere.  
After they had made love she did not get redressed and now he was looking at her perfectly shaped body. Yeah, this was part of being in Paris was good.

Still, to Callen, it was weird to find out she was now a member of this other team. He knew for sure it could never be a decision Hetty would have made. Ever since the assignment of Marty Deeks as a liaison officer, Hetty Lange made sure she would stick to NCIS personnel only and Chris was not. And from what Chris had told him, it had been arranged by Vance himself and some other high placed persons from the Dutch government.

It was something to talk about the next day. Jetlag, worries, the rush of this day started to effect his energy level too. Callen slid into bed beside Chris, careful not to wake her. The soft moan and the catlike stretching of her warm and sensual female body towards his, made him doubt if he should decide to wake her anyway…

/€/€/€/€/

It took a while to figure out where she was. Her job had taken her all around the world and she never had had any problems with that. Never, until about half a year ago. Ever since that last awful week at Guam she had trouble sleeping, suffering from severe nightmares.  
There had none be around this night, she gratefully realized.  
In the early morning light Chris Young lie awake, quietly watching the strong and rugged man next to her. Once he was asleep, he looked… well, younger, boyish. Something vulnerable that he never showed once he was awake.  
This time in Paris. It was… different. She shivered, then she lied close and snuggled up against his gorgeous body.

/€/€/€/€/

**Trocadéro, 7.30 a.m.**

There was a knock on her door and she immediately grabbed her gun. Although she was quite sure it was one of the team, she still was careful.

"Kenz?"  
An all too familiar voice. Kensi opened the door. "Callen. What's up?" she asked.

"Was wondering if you have some clothes to lend," he said.

"Not really. For Chris I figure?" she asked with a smile.

"Yeah. What else?" He missed this. The usual light banter. When had it disappeared? Long time before Sidorov came along. Was it only his own perception or would the others feel it too?

"No, not really" she said, "don't think so. Just took my go-back and the clothes I'm wearing. We all did. But Chris has a great taste, she'll be able to find something that fits in a moment."

"She will. But for now, she only has a dress that's been ruined by somebody who dragged her from and over the dirty street." Callen answered.

"Crap. And her stuff is not in here of course."

He shook his head. "Well, than she will have to do it with what she has. Thanks anyway".

/€/€/€/€/

**Mercure Eifel, 9.30 a.m.**

They had chosen a meeting room at the Mercure for a briefing session.

"I still don't get it why you were sent to Paris as well," Grace said, hoping not to hurt the three men of Kensi's regular team. "We're all trained agents and Vance and Granger decided to get us here and you, well, you were far from fit for regular teamwork last week."

"This is personal Grace," Sam mumbled.

"And you think that is a reason you will be a better team?" Grace reacted. "Did it ever occur to you that you might take too many risks, being too eager?"

"Grace. Maybe it is hard to explain for Sam, but I get the point," Kensi said.

"The point is that we should work together as one team, ladies and gentlemen." Tony did not like where this was going to.

Callen reacted "One team. What would our mission be in your opinion, Tony?"

"We got a double one Callen," Chris said, answering for Tony instead. "Didn't Hetty inform you about it?"  
Callen looked at her, still finding it rather strange to talk at a professional level with her, like now, being part of his team. She was wearing one of his plain, grey t-shirts over the green dress, which led to a very personal way of dressing up.  
"A double one?"

"Yes. We were being asked to look for Janvier's daughter as well," Kensi now answered. "And, for your information, to arrest Isaac Sidorov. So, no personal vendettas, Sam."

"Personally I would love to make the arrest. Would find some place and a way to interrogate him as well," Deeks mumbled.

Kensi looked at the others. This was far from what she had imagined when Deeks, Sam and Callen had come to Paris as well.  
They all were quiet for a while.

"You know, I was thinking," Chris then said. "Could it be we were all too eager to get to Paris? I mean, Janvier mentioned Paris so, how shall I say, insignificantly that we noted it as something worth knowing. And he was right that we were to find Sidorov in here. But what if the real thing is going on in the US in fact? I had the feeling that that guy was trying to be one step ahead all the time."

"And you know this how?" Callen asked.

"Hetty did not tell you that either?" Kensi asked. She was suddenly wondering what they DID know.

The soft 'pling' of the laptop Deeks had in front of him should be the immediate answer to her question. "Incoming message from ops," Deeks said. "Should I take it or do you guys need to discuss this first as well?"

"Deeks. Please. The guys may have useful information, so let it come," Sam said.

It was Nell who appeared on screen and Deeks activated the webcam on his laptop too. "Marty… you look terrible," the young intelligence analyst said, honest as she was. "You guys have met the others already?"

Callen stood next to Deeks and answered. "Yes Nell, we're all here. What is it you're going to share?"

"First. Looks like Sidorov is taking serious security measures. We managed to get face recognition of three more man, the ones that were waiting outside of the embassy last night. Two of them are Russian, one Iranian. Names and so on will be sent separately in a database, Deeks, will you share it with the others?" She went on, quickly and sparkly as ever. "Secondly. We haven't seen Sidorov leaving the building. Vaziri however was picked up through a side entrance, about half an hour after you left. It wasn't easy but we had traffic camera's follow the car he was in to 'Le Burgundy', one of the most luxurious places in town. So I've heard," she smiled. "And Eric managed to trace the car that was following Kensi and crew. It was a stolen car, fake plates, rented at Istanbul airport." Then she added "Which is a long way from Paris."

"Close enough to Iran. Or Syria," Chris noted.

"Any clues to where it is right now, Nell? Did Eric mention that?" Callen asked.

"Uh. Eric?" They heard some mumbling from the other tech. "Rue Vaneau."

"Which is where the Syrians have their embassy," Chris said.

"Right. Grace, Tony, maybe you could go and keep an eye on Vaziri? Kenz, how about you and I will revisit the Russian embassy, see if we can find Sidorov in there. Sam, you and Chris to the Rue Vaneau. No action, just observation." Callen quickly divided the team in pairs that he knew would work out well. "Deeks, you'll be around to guide us, to inform us, be our ears and eyes and staying in touch with Nell."

"Not so fast, Mr. Callen."  
It surprised him to see Hetty on screen.

"Miss Blye, I asked you something to do last night. From what I hear right now, I gather you have not discussed this matter yet with Miss Young?"

Kensi reddened. "That's right Hetty. In fact, I haven't. I—" she said.

"In that case, let me do it myself. Miss Young, there's been a change of plans. I have decided to keep you out of the team from now on. You can sit this one out at the Dutch embassy."

"But… Why?" she managed to ask.

"A long row of why's, Miss Young. There were those remarks made by Sidorov last night. There was an attack to be made on your life in Paris. There were several attacks made on people that were seen at our boathouse after interrogating Marcel Janvier. Assistant director Granger has moved to a safe house. You have been there twice. You would be a target too, endangering my people."

"Kensi was at the boathouse. She may be in danger too. Sidorov knows Sam, he'll be in danger as well," Chris reasoned.

"They, Miss Young, are NCIS. You are not. I cannot and will not be responsible for your wellbeing right now, right there."

"Then let me stay with Deeks. He's not NCIS either."

"He is part of the team. You can stop trying to convince me, Miss Young. My decision has been made and I will contact director Vance about it."

"But I know Paris, I can help them," Chris pleaded.

"Did I make myself clear, Miss Young? You'll be safe at the embassy."

"Are you sure you trust me controlling passports? Will it be safe? Or do you have to ask director Vance permission about that as well?" Chris yelled.

"That will do!"

"Hetty?" Callen tried to calm down their operations manager.

"Do not try to overrule anything in there, Mr. Callen. She is out, you hear?" Hetty shouted. She did hear and see the door slam at the conference room in Paris. Then, she turned away from the screen and decidedly left ops.

There was a soft 'Woow' from Eric. And "Ouch" coming from Deeks.

/€/€/€/€/

Never, ever had she felt as humiliated as she felt right now. Downgraded in front of the people she liked to work with, people she admired. And nothing that Hetty Lange said had sounded really reasonable to Chris Young.  
Tears were welling up in her eyes and blurred her vision. What probably hurt most was the notable concern Callen had showed for Hetty. No single sign of solace towards her. Nothing at all from him, nor from the other five.  
She was out. Alone. And it hurt.

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles, Office of Special Projects**

Sitting behind her desk, she was thinking of all the things that were said and done. Oh, she had indeed serious doubts about her decision.  
And in fact, all the things this furious, but brave and clever young woman had said, were right.  
Still, Hetty Lange could not remember ever having been hollered at by anyone like this before. Although she did recall the time that Callen asked her about all the orphans she had tried to help.

This, this was different.  
And in fact, it was not about Chris Young, not at all.  
Hetty Lange wanted to protect G. Callen. Protect him from being overprotective. From being hurt if things would go wrong in the end. She needed him to focus on the case, not to be distracted by this girl, no matter what Vance had said.  
Now this might have proved to be a wrong decision in the end. One that Miss Young just had let her know. Although Chris Young had been unreasonable in tone, everything she had said had sounded reasonable.

Hetty took one of the pictures from the large wall. Not all pictures in there were from her past, not all. She had some of the team. Like this one, one she treasured. The one with Callen being protective and sending a comforting smile at a beautiful dressed Chris Young *. She wanted them to be happy, in the end.  
'Oh, for the love of Gucci'…

What on earth went so wrong in this case?

* [for those who are curious: mentioned in the storyline 'Brigada Angely, chapter 15, s/9040389/15/Brigada-Angely ]

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_**Thanks in advance for your shout-outs, remarks and thoughts... **_


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter 14**

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They all were quiet for a while. None of them had experienced such an outburst of Hetty before, although Callen remembered how emotional she had reacted when he had asked her how many orphans like him, like Hunter, like Grace, whom she had managed to get to work for agencies.

Emotional indeed. But never beyond reason. Why was it that she reacted like this to the things Chris had said and done?

"Shouldn't you—" Kensi looked at Callen, hoping he'd understand what she meant.

"Callen?" Tony asked. "I'm going to call Gibbs. He should contact Hetty."

"Gibbs? Why Gibbs?" Callen wanted to know, confused by the announcement.

"He's regretting some things that happened. Like why Ziva is gone and about where she is right now. Maybe, just maybe, Hetty will understand and maybe there's time to think things over. Or, like Colin Powell once said: 'Get Mad. Then get over it'."

"Call Gibbs if you feel like it, DiNozzo. Gotta go see Chris now."

He expected she would be in the ladies. Callen knocked on the door, no reaction, but he knew she would not do so either. He then entered, only to conclude no-one was there.  
He trotted down the stairs and hurried outside to see if he spotted Chris somewhere around. Nothing. Crap. He sighed. He did not expect her to show up soon now, stubborn as she could be, but he hoped she would be careful.

/€/€/€/€/

Sam noticed the bottled emotions in Callen's eyes, the tension of his body, signs that something was off indeed.  
Both Hetty and Chris had told him how vulnerable Callen had been. Was it only a week ago? It seemed so much longer. The fact that the Chameleon, Janvier, had betrayed him and Callen had missed it. Callen! Nobody had ever questioned his ability for quick reasoning, reacting and leading the team in a way that was pleasantly to work with. He was disciplined and able to control his actions, even, or perhaps especially, in stressful situations.  
Could it be Callen was losing that ability when it came to this case? Suddenly Sam had lots of doubts about Callen's state of mind but above all, of Hetty's decision. And if Callen did not want to discuss it with their operations manager, he would.

"G…you're good?" he asked his partner.

"Make a guess Sam", he snapped, unwillingly. He took a deep breath before he continued. "Kensi, what was that all about Chris having interrogated Janvier? How come he agreed upon that? Did Hetty arrange it?"  
Callen needed to know. The Chameleon had always said he did not want to talk to anyone else but Callen. However, Janvier had also made it clear that he wanted revenge.

"No, Hetty was not around. It was Vance who arranged her coming to Los Angeles. He got her out of Turkey where she was working on another case. She was alone with Janvier, twice. First time Granger accompanied her to and in the boathouse, to contact ops if necessary, the second time I was around. So, in a way she was right when she told Hetty I would be in danger just as much as her."

"What were they talking about?"

"You, Paris, chess, cats. Kinda chit-chat it was."

"But she did not give anything away. She was great in there Callen," Grace added. "Bluffing. Never letting him take the upper hand. And she was making a right guess, or better, a calculated estimation, about Sidorov who might contact Syrians in here."

"Chris did not like to talk with Janvier and he did not take her that serious at first. But it changed. Remember, he also threatened her to keep looking over her shoulder, don't forget that," Tony brought up.

"Damn. Hetty might be right that she's in danger. How come we were not completely informed?" Callen was even more concerned about Chris, yet he did not like to hear at all that Hetty had not fully informed them what happened back in Los Angeles. Or here.

"G. You should know so much better than that. Chris was right about others, Kensi and me for example, being in danger just as much as she would be. As if we used not to be… But endangering us? Pure humbug. And you know it." Sam had thought his partner would be more reasonable. "It's okay your being protective. But Chris is just as good an agent as you and I, or Grace or—."

"I'm not being protective Sam. No more or less than in other cases."

Kensi had observed the senior agents, not sure if she should bring up what was on her mind. Yet, she did, because it was something worth knowing for the others in the end.  
"You are extra protective Callen, I see it and I can feel it. I bet Hetty must have felt it too. You are fully aware of what Janvier said to you: '_I still only live for one thing. To kill what you love.'_ I heard that, you heard it. Does Hetty know too, Callen?"

He would **NOT** show them how those words were continuously bothering him. Kensi was right. Hetty too, but so was Sam. Callen knew they should wrap this Paris case as soon as possible and get back home, to Los Angeles.  
"She probably does." Callen sighed. He knew he should control his emotion and again, he managed to steel himself and then calmly resumed the further actions of this day. "Right, we need to move on, for the time being without Chris and with the change of plans. Now we know that Sidorov would recognize Sam and Deeks. Sam, Deeks and Kensi have been spotted by Vaziri too and I have been in close contact with him. Since we're one man short I suggest we work like this. Grace, Tony, if the two of you could go to the Rue Vaneau. Vaziri won't know you, so never mind walking around. Kensi and I will try and find out if Sidorov is still at the embassy. Which leaves you, Sam, to go and find out more about Janvier's daughter."

"Seriously, G? You expect me to go and do some paperwork? Here, in Paris, in French?" Sam huffed, not believing his partner and friend suggested this. "You know I'm not going to do that! Let me be your driver and I am willing to stay in a car if necessary. But no way am I going to a library... thing."

"I will do that for you Sam," Deeks said. "I mean, I can do some search on the computer from here, perhaps. Or I can use the phone. And of course I will use my charm. Which means I'm a far better choice for this challenge, Callen."

If this would have been an ordinary case on their own territory, things would have been different. For now, it might be the best way to work indeed.  
"Alright then," Callen finally agreed.

/€/€/€/€/

Instead of simply cooling down and stepping back in with the others, Chris needed some more time, more fresh air to get rid of her anger, the sudden sadness of not being backed up and the lonely feeling.  
She walked along the Seine and decided to take something to drink while pondering her next move. It took some time before she thought it over well enough.

At one of the small 'centres commercial' she found a burn phone and she simply copied only one of the numbers she had on the expensive iPhones Nell had provided them with. After that, she took the card out of the iPhone and deleted it. If she wanted to be found by Callen or his team, or by any other person in Paris, she would arrange that herself.

But first she would do exactly what Hetty ordered her to do. Go back to the embassy.

/€/€/€/€/

"Now where should I go and find more information about birth certificates in France, in Paris?" Deeks asked, more or less talking to himself.  
He started googling, using translation programs, reading… and finally, after nearly an hour, he came to the conclusion that he should find an 'Acte d'état Civil'.

Before he could continue the search, he simply needed more information so he decided to contact Nell once more.

"Hi there. Nell, about this daughter of Marcel Janvier… If I start looking for her who will I find? What did he say about her?"

"Ehm… Let me think. He mentioned her twice, once with Callen, saying that his part of the deal should be on her behalf. And again when he talked with Chris. Something about a bank account."

He combed his blonde curly hair with his fingers, trying to figure out in the meantime with which information he would have to work. "Do you have a name, age, bank account?"

Even on the screen he noticed how quickly Nell could process his questions. "I remember having heard 16. But then again… You know what, I'll give you access to the footage of the interrogations. We'll check in here as well. You know you need to go for an 'Acte d'état Civil', Marty."

"Oh, I know Nell," he commented, managing not to show the frustration of losing that much time finding out himself. "Of course I know that. But thanks anyway."

Nearly two hours later the only conclusion Marty Deeks made was that maybe, just maybe, Chris Young's technique of questioning was just as good as G. Callen's. However, none of them had managed to get any concrete information about a daughter of Marcel Janvier.

* * *

_**I sincerely like to know what you think about my story, and so I would love to hear & read your reviews. Thanks in advance!**_

* * *

Disclaimer: Too bad, we all know that no fanfiction writer owns any of the original NCIS LA characters. We don't own, but gratefully use them…


	15. Chapter 15

_**Thank you for your comments so far! Hope you'll enjoy this chapter as well. Please do not hesitate to leave any comments, they're very welcome.**_

Disclaimer: in case you're worried; Neither Callen, nor any of the other team-members used in this storyline belong to me. They all belong to CBS! I gladly use all characters and include only one of my own.

* * *

**Chapter 15**

Chris still not understood exactly why she had been taken of this case. It hurt and she was not sure if she'd agree to it. Perhaps she needed to contact Hetty again and apologize for the things she had said. Indeed, she had been too impulsive and perhaps too rude, which was never her intention. All she really wanted was to be part of this team, doing the things she was asked to do and she knew she was good at, not to be abandoned from it.  
It hurt even more that Callen had not stopped her. Instead he had been concerned about Hetty, not about her.

Yes, like Hetty had asked, she had gone back to the place she called home years ago, where her stuff was and where she could talk to some of her former colleagues again and ask them for advice.

She took some time to study several files and ask for juridical advice if necessary. The Dutch government had about the same thing as the Patriot Act which enabled her to arrest somebody in the name of the government if she had the right paperwork, as a Dutchie.  
But more important, the American law and extraterritorial jurisdiction gave her the rights to arrest somebody in France for a crime that was committed elsewhere as well.

She asked the jurist to take care of two different arrest warrants she could use, one according to the Dutch laws and the other one to the American ones. After that, she took all the items she needed, redressed and left the embassy compounds.  
Talking to Hetty could wait.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | Rue Duphot, Le Burgundy**

They had been waiting for a while in the car, outside of the hotel. "What would be your plan, Tony?" Grace wanted to know. "If this was Washington and you were working with your regular partner?"

He breathed in, loudly. "Seriously, Grace? Any reason why you bring that up?"

"What do you mean? I mean… what do you mean by that?"

"My regular partner. What do you know about Ziva?"

"Ziva. That sounds mysterious. Well, I don't know anything about him, I was not asking but… assume that you would be in Washington working—"

"He's a she. Ziva is, I mean. And you know what Grace? She's gone, taken away from the team because of the threats made against her life. They killed her father and directors Vance's wife and she was to be next. She's gone, agreed to be in protective custody. Keeping her out of harm's way, keeping her from endangering our lifes. Perhaps she's not even in the US anymore, but back to her own country. Ziva is perfectly able to take care of herself, she's Mossad. And you know what Grace? Gibbs agreed to it at first and now… If he could turn back time, Ziva would be still in Washington. As a team we would've hunted the hunters."

Grace listened quietly, so far not used to Tony's long and rather emotional oration. She did not react for a few seconds, then she said "That's why you called Gibbs and asked him to contact Hetty? And why you were angry last night? But Chris is no Ziva and Ziva is no Chris, Tony."  
What she did not mention was the fact she sensed that somehow, Tony's feelings for Ziva were probably comparable to those of Callen's for Chris. Feelings that could blur teamwork, block clear decisions if one was not able to divide the personal from the professional. But somehow, she figured Chris and Callen could do that. Be professionals.

"So, all I wanted to know was what you think would be the best way to find out if that guy Vaziri is in here right now." Then she smiled at Tony. "But by now I already figured out. Let's go, honey! Join me, but let me lead."

"You do know Lao Zsu, don't you? 'To lead people, walk behind them'. So yeah, I will follow you Grace."

She couldn't help but smiling, but then she eased herself to become a whole different woman as she stepped into the lobby of the hotel.  
Grace braced herself for the conversation to come, rehearsed some sentences and then she stepped in, feeling Tony's hand on her back, like lovers would do.  
"Hello. My ishchem dlya nashego druga, Naseem Vaziri. My dolzhny byli vstretit'sya v drugoye mesto, no on ne yavilsya" [we are looking for our friend, Naseem Vaziri. We were to meet at another place but he did not show up], she said. Then she continued, in English but with an enormous Russian accent "He told us he was staying in here with his familia."

"Could you repeat the name please, ma'am?" the receptionist asked.  
"Vaziri, Naseem", Tony was now standing next to her and answered, using the same accent which sounded quite realistic as well.  
The young man quickly and discretely checked his lists on the screen in front of him, then he looked up and answered "I am sorry Sir, Madam. There is nobody with that name staying in here."

Grace looked at Tony and said in a loud voice "The bastard. Ublyudka. On sdelal eto snova. On bol'she ne yavlyayetsya moim drugom, Antoniy" [He did it again, he is no longer our friend, Tony]. She turned around and walked out of the lobby, while Tony stayed and said to the man behind the desk "Spasibo. Sorry for her behavior Sir," shook his head and hurried outside, following his coworker who already was seated in the car.

"Well, at least you got to use your Russian once again. And I'd say 'Absence of proof is not proof of absence'. Vaziri might stay in there using an alias," Tony said. "And you were great, Grace. For once I wished I spoke more languages."

Grace looked at her temporary partner. "Just practice Tony. The way you remember all those quotes and even the rules agent Gibbs bores you with, your brain obviously can handle more. It's not that hard to pick some more languages to learn. You speak Spanish. French should not be so hard to add to it, or Portuguese or Italian. All part of the same family."

"Right. Speaking of family… how about this Vaziri? Would he be staying in Paris alone or with companions?"

"Let's ask Deeks. He might know or find out," was the answer of his female coworker as she took her phone.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | Boulevard Lannes**

It had been a simple plan that Kensi had come up with. The night before, they had used the dark red van and parked it in front of the embassy building. In Kensi's opinion it would be far too obvious to use it again. She had seen the office of the travel agency across the street though and some calls with the local CIA office later, they were installed in a small van of 'Intertourist' right in front of travel agency, with a clear view at the side entrance of the embassy compound.

"So, what's the plan from now on?" Sam wanted to know.

"You stay in the car. That's plan one. We'll be with you on a stakeout at first. If we don't see any familiar faces, I'll go inside and ask for Sidorov," Callen answered.

"Ask for him and then what? You know we need to arrest the guy. So you need to get him on the street," Kensi remarked.

"That would be a plan B. We'll know it once we get that far."

"Do you know who we're dealing with, G? How many guys work with him in here? How about the Iranians? Perhaps Syrian?"

This was one of the moments that would be difficult to handle. If it were Los Angeles, things would go easier. Hetty would arrange some reinforcements and Eric and Nell would be their extra ears and eyes. Here, in Paris, there were only the five of them on the street, with Deeks as a backup. And if things would go really, really wrong, they might contact the local CIA agents.

"You're right Sam. We don't know", Callen sighed, knowing he did not sound at all like the always so self-assured lead agent. "Maybe we need to work on a clearer plan B. Now, any ideas?"  
The only thing Kensi came up with was contacting Deeks, who on his turn contacted Nell and Eric to find out if they had any clues of the contacts of Sidorov or Vaziri. Until they got any answers, they decided to sit and wait.

It was nearly half an hour later that Callen got the awkward feeling that something was off. "Call it paranoia, but I have got the weird feeling we're being watched."

/€/€/€/€/

Paris was a city Chris Young knew very well. She knew about the terrible traffic and the best ways of transportation, the Métropolitain or a motorbike. She knew how to dress and behave like a true Parisienne, or to be who she wanted to be. Yes, she would be hiding in plain sight indeed.

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_Thank you for reading!_


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter 16**

Indeed, so much to find out for the team!

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**Disclaimer:** just permitted myself to use the team of NCIS LA, and why not ask for something more. Like DiNozzo, Grace Stevens, team Red! It is a great mix of characters for which I'm grateful CBS and some wonderful writers came up with. There's only one OC in this story.  
Lucky her.

* * *

She had parked the motorcycle in the alley right behind her. Although it was a hot autumn day, she wore several layers of clothes. The combination of the short auburn hair with some greyish streaks, cut in a bob-line months ago, and a worn-out grey trench coat made her look much older. A shawl hid part of her face too. Beneath it, there was the kind of leggings that were out fashioned a long time ago, combined with what appeared to be terrible sport shoes.  
She sat down on one of the benches that were everywhere along the wide boulevard and got a croissant and an apple from the plastic supermarket bag. For the eye, an older woman, sad and lonely.

Although she was there to see if Isaac Sidorov would show up, she also noticed the three people in the van further away from her. On a stakeout as well, definitely. She was curious what plan they had.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | Mercure Eifel**

"You know you can hack in the systems of that hotel Eric. We need to know with how many people Naseem Vaziri is staying in this city. You don't have to tell her," Deeks argued.

Since there was no witty reply from his fellow surf-mate, Deeks had some doubts if his message had reached the ops tech operator. "Eric?"

"'Her' is listening, Mr. Deeks. And 'her' is not too happy with you demanding such things of our personnel. Unfortunately, the consequence of you being in another country is that I will ask the same thing of Mr. Beale right now. The difference of me asking, however, is that Mr. Beale will immediately do as asked. Now, Mr. Deeks, is all going as planned?"

He really did not know. It felt awkward not being able to work in the field. On the other hand, the others trusted he would come up with swift reactions. And in the meantime, he was working on the puzzle of how to find Janvier's daughter in this city.  
"Ehm, well, Hetty. I can't tell. Grace just asked if I, if we, could find out if Vaziri is in Paris all alone, and if not, if we, you, can find out with who. And Callen asked about the same thing. We don't know who we're facing in here, Hetty. Nor who we can rely on if things go nasty."

She tried hard to hide a sigh. The inability to make all the arrangements the team was used to, might work against them for the time being. She really needed to contact her French connections. It worried her that Vaziri had shown up with Sidorov and that in fact, most of her regular team would face enemies who would recognize them.

"You'll be contacted by Eric soon, Mr. Deeks. Tell your coworkers we're working on that and that they'll stay low until you know more. Okay?"

"Yeah. Alrighty then," he answered, after that pressing the escape button, ending the live streaming with the city of angels.

/€/€/€/€/

**Florida | Key West**

It was the third day for team Red at Key West. This time, Nell had helped Roy just a little with doing some backstopping for Roy and Dave. They had partnered up, knowing the team they would work in was readying shipment for Guantanamo.  
It had been Eric who traced some anomalies in the paperwork and for the time being, director Vance himself had arranged for the team to go undercover in Florida.

Paris and Claire each worked in another team; Claire joined the HR department and checked with a special program that Nell had sent over to them.  
Paris spent most time in the officers' quarters, picking up most gossip.

"Claire, find out more about chief warrant McNamara. Background check. Age. Follow the money, check phone records. Have Nell from Ops help you if necessary."

"On it, Paris. Any clues?"

"Gut feeling. That's all. Besides, he is on the same group as Dave and Roy, preparing for a trip on an aircraft carrier towards Guantanamo. Used to be the nuke on a submarine. We'll need to go through the paperwork even better for this shipment and this guy's tasks."

"But Guantanamo? I mean… why?"

"That's what we need to find out. Soon!"

/€/€/€/€/  
**Paris | Boulevard Lannes**

It was one of the unwritten rules. Never stay at one place longer than an hour. So, she got up, walked towards the alley, quickly tore of the wig and got rid of the trenchcoat, put her hair, that she had colored darker than she was used to, in a lose tail and started running. She passed the side entrance of the embassy compound, passed the van unnoticed by the ones in it, passed the main entrance and then crossed the street and ran back.  
It was when she had passed the van once again, that she noticed the flash of the sun reflecting in something from the other side of the street from where the van was parked. She stopped, for the ones who were unaware simply for some stretching.  
What she saw, however, frightened her more than she had thought. Her plan B would need to work now, but first she needed to warn them. She used the only number programmed on her burn phone.

"Yeah?" was all she heard. It was his voice though, so all she needed to say was to be said without any further introduction: "Sam, get the hell out of that van or move it in five seconds from now."

She ran further, phone turned off and from behind her, she heard the sound of a car accelerating, screeching tires. Sam did what she asked, fully respecting her warning and never doubting it. She reached her motorcycle, fumbled with the com and turned it on. Then she got rid of the phone too and took her motor.

Chris remembered something that Tony said, some days earlier: 'find the bad guys before they find us.' However, it seemed that maybe it was going to be the other way around.  
But if she was to draw the attention of whoever was there on the roof, whoever it was that was keeping an eye on the others, from going after Callen, Sam and Kensi, she needed to expose herself from now on.

/€/€/€/€/

"Sam?" He knew exactly how those piercing blue eyes were gazing at him right now. Demanding.  
"It was Chris. You were right, G. We were being watched."

He knew it. Gut feeling. How come he had been too insecure? As their team leader he should have followed the discipline of moving when his intuition had told him so. Instead, he endangered his team. "Chris was watching us? Crap. Should have known. She's gone lone wolf on us."

"What's new," Sam muttered.

"Lone wolf? Callen, she's having our back. Hetty's decision to have her to sit this one out was a wrong one. You know that, I know it and Chris knows it. I'ld say we should pick her up and ignore whatever Vance and Hetty will be saying," Kensi said.

"G, she was around all the time, probably even before we were there. She noticed we were being watched. Whoever it was, they were good and thorough otherwise we would have noticed too".

"And where is she now? Where have the others gone?"

Before anyone answered, Deeks contacted them.

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles | OPS**

It was not that often that Nell felt the urge to run down the stairs to get to Hetty for advice, but this time she did. She hurried to Hetty's desk, her tablet as a secret weapon in front of her.

"Yes, Miss Jones?"

"It's this, Hetty. And it—"

"Which this?" she immediately interrupted. "Now, Miss Jones, I can see you are all excited, but calm down please and explain."

"This. This is about Janvier. He never had a daughter. Well, none that Deeks could find, but he did find out about this… daughter. It is a daughter company. We've managed to trace it, Hetty. The holding company is Russian, owned and controlled by Isaac Sidorov himself. Its foundations are in Moscow, but the main company is in Miami. Which means that Deeks and I found out that Janvier knows Sidorov so much longer than we thought and the weird thing is, Vaziri and Janvier were financial partners too for the last 15 years. So…"

The tiny office manager was quiet for a while, wondering how this conclusion fit in all that they knew so far.  
"I will need to contact Paris as soon as possible," she finally said.

"But Deeks knows Hetty," Nell responded quickly. "He is the one who discovered all this. And he will inform the others!"

"This time I was not talking about the city of love, Miss Jones. It is Miss Summerskill I need to talk to."  
However, she made a mental note that somebody needed to have a word with Marcel Janvier, soon.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | Rue de la Pompe**

At least they got away and Chris was glad about that. If those men were Sidorov's, they would have recognized Sam, no good sign. If they worked for Vaziri, all three of them could be in danger.

She slowed down, only to see a car coming nearer in the rear view mirror. Chris breathed in, deeply. Now she needed to lure them to the Rue Eblé.

* * *

_thanks for reading. I do hope you'll leave your review in here! _


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer:** Too bad, we all know that no fanfiction writer owns any of the original NCIS LA characters. We don't own, but gratefully use them…

* * *

**Chapter 17 | tried & try**

"Oh, and Miss Jones? Did you, or Mr. Deeks, learn anything about the nature of the business Sidorov is in?"

"Nothing so far Hetty. It's just the relationship of those three guys that had us alarmed," Nell answered.

"Let me know if you find out more. And keep Mr. Deeks updated. Which reminds me of his question earlier. Has Mr. Beale checked in at the Burgundy, so to say?" The faint smile on her face made Nell relax a little.

"Oh, yes he did! He noticed that there are three Iranian staying in there. Probably Vaziri and some bodyguards. But he uses an alias, at least that's what we think; Isra'am Zivran."

"Does Paris know this?" the older woman asked.

"Paris as in Paris or as in Summerskill?" Nell got confused.

"Paris as in 'tell Mr. Deeks'. Off you go."

/€/€/€/€/

They had taken a detour and came near to their hotel by now when Deeks, still at the Mercure, called in.

"Deeks?" Kensi reacted. "What's going on?"

He started to enumerate "Hetty wants you to stay low. Eric found out that Vaziri is traveling under an alias, Isra'am Zivran, with probably two bodyguards. Nell and I discovered that Sidorov and Vaziri are in business with Janvier for the last 15 or 16 years. Team Red is getting closer to finding the nuclear weapons that Sidorov managed to hide so far."

Quickly assessing this information, Callen reacted. "Janvier? With them?" He sighed and continued "Did you tell Grace and DiNozzo?"

"What? About Janvier? Or to stay low?" So far, Deeks had been able to do what he thought he could do, but his head started aching by now. It was not that easy to keep up with the pace all the information that came to him.  
"Just repeat this message to them. And Deeks, is there any way you or Eric can trace the phone Chris used earlier? It's the one that called Sam. Maybe something like gps on it?"

"Not getting jealous are you, Callen? She knows Sam is married," he tried with a smile. Too bad the lead agent did not appreciate it. Deeks could literally hear the focus and tension in his voice when he heard Callen say "we need to keep her safe, Marty."

"On it, Callen."

/€/€/€/€/

Not knowing what she would face, Chris had decided to put on a comlink she borrowed from the embassy and she had connected it beforehand to Deeks' iPhone. At least she knew she could contact somebody. If necessary, all she had to do was press the transmitting button

At first she drove not too fast. Traffic was quiet though for Paris standards and that bothered her soon. Using a motorcycle always made you have the upper hand, she knew that. But right now, with less traffic, it was too easy for a car to catch up with a motorcycle. And that was exactly what happened.  
The car that followed her so far, came near very fast.

Her mouth went dry. Maybe she had been too optimistic. Maybe it was time to leave the broader boulevards and take some of the smaller streets and alleys, where the car would have more difficulties to speed up.  
By now she regretted her earlier impulsive decision to get rid of all communication items Nell had supplied her with. This was the moment she should contact the others and so she did.

"Deeks? This is Chris and I know you can hear me. I'm being followed. Looks like this guy Vaziri and some others. Don't know why, but I'm heading to our embassy and hope to lose them. Don't know if I'll manage. Are the other teams around? Driving on the Rue de la Fédération and now taking some smaller ones. Heading for the Rue de Presles."

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | Mercure Eifel**

He had a map of Paris right in front of him, but following her on it was difficult enough. The way she pronounced the street names sounded far too French for him and passing the names and distance to Kensi, who passed them to Sam, who was driving the van at high speed right now, was hard for Deeks.

"Grace, DiNozzo, what's your position?" he nearly shouted. "Anywhere close to the Ru de Presley?"

Tony frowned "Where? Why?"

"Boulevard Saint Germaine, Marty," Grace answered, looking at the gps navigation system in the car she was driving. Without any doubt she continued "Where to do you need us?"

"From the opposite direction of the Dutch embassy toward that road I just told you. Presley or something like that. You may want to speed up. Chris called 'cause she's in trouble."

"On our way Deeks. If you know more, just spit it out", DiNozzo now said. "Team work makes dream work, true?"  
Instead of a witty reply, Grace shot a short smile at him and speeded up.

/€/€/€/€/

"Rue Mario Nikis, Deeks. From here on I'll be on the Avenue du Suffren again."

Then, right out of nowhere so it seemed, a trash truck appeared from a side street and moved in right in front of her. The only thing she could do was brake and quickly turn around and hope all would be alright.  
Instead, she met up with bullets shot her way. If she wanted to avoid the shooters and get away, she needed something more spectacular. She made a controlled brake and let the bike slid towards the car from which two men already got out.  
Meanwhile she tried to get her gun, knowing she was outnumbered and all she could do was hoping the others would reach her in time. Maybe, just maybe she could take on two, if she was quick.  
She managed to pull the trigger indeed.  
One guy went down, surprised he was hit by the motorbike. Her bullets hit at least one of the other men, that she knew.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | Mercure Eifel**

From where he was, Deeks had heard the brakes, screeching sounds, her curses and then, there was shooting. His trained ears noticed there were three different guns or three different angles where the shots came from.  
What scared him most was he was as sure as he could be - hearing Chris cry out in pain, more shooting, a soft moan. Then voices in a language he did not understand. And more shots being fired.

/€/€/€/€/

"Fern?" She heard Deeks in a softer voice than she was used to. "Maybe you should keep Callen away." Kensi bit her lip. Not good. She answered "Will try to. We're not there yet. DiNozzo?"

"He and Grace should be there indeed." He paused for just a second. "Take care, Kenz."

/€/€/€/€/

The impact of the first bullet stunned her. The next few shots came in even closer, hit her harder and they literally took her breath away. Chris panicked as she noticed one of the men came closer, saying something her brains refused to understand and then pointed the gun at her once more. Another shot sounded.  
And she passed out.

/€/€/€/€/

She realized she might be too late, seeing Chris lying on the street. Before Vaziri could shoot again, Grace aimed and fired twice, calmly.  
Amazed by how good a shooter she was, Tony shoved away Vaziri's gun and concluded quickly that he died right on the spot.

Grace hurried to Chris, swallowing away the awful feeling that she might be the one who would have to conclude that all went wrong. She slowly reached out to perform the standard actions, feeling with two fingers if she could feel a heartbeat, surprised at the same time that she did not see or feel more blood than the small trail running from her neck.  
The combination of a strong heartbeat and a soft wince made Grace look up at Tony, relieved, who reached for his phone to contact the others.  
"Have Deeks call for an ambulance. She's alive!"

Dinozzo did as he was told and then he squatted next to Grace. "I should not be the one who does this, but could you check Gracie? Is she wearing a vest?"  
While Grace carefully checked, DiNozzo stood up. He noticed the crowd watching. It felt awkward. If this was Washington, or another American city, he would feel better. "C'est okay", he said loudly. "Nous sommes police."

He heard the sirens of an ambulance or police car coming near and another car stopping. Sam, Kensi and Callen got out.

"Wait, Callen," Kensi took his arm. She looked at Grace, who sent her an encouraging smile. "It's okay. She's alive and an ambulance is on its way. Lucky she was wearing a vest."  
Grace stood up, knowing she should make way for Callen. Oh, yes, she noticed his look, full of worry but above all, with that special loving spark. She had hoped, in vain, that only a small percentage of such a look would be meant for her instead. But right now, she had to ignore it.

Grace joined Tony, who kept looking at the trash truck.  
"I'm wondering Gracie, would Big Brother have been watching this?" He pointed at the small camera at the truck. "We should confiscate the footage. Never know what it's good for," Tony said. He talked to the truck driver, who did not seem all too happy but finally nodded and got back in the cabin from where he took a small disk.

/€/€/€/€/

It scared him to death, seeing Chris lying there, for the eye motionless and paler than before. He sat down, gently caressing her jaw. A soft whimper and the change in breathing made him whisper "Oh Chris, what did you think you were doing?"  
Her dark blue eyes were open by now, darker because of the pain, he reckoned. She breathed in before she answered "keep you—safe".  
Callen noticed how her breathing was shallow, definitely a sign that she was hurt. "Hush now, 'moya'. We're all safe."  
She closed her eyes, grateful that he was around.  
He remained there in a private little world, unaware of all the people who were standing around and staring at what happened.

Sam and Kensi on the other hand were aware of their audience and scanned if they noticed any familiar or suspicious faces.

Callen sat there until a soft tap on his shoulder announced the arrival of a paramedic. "Sir? Are you alright?"  
He looked up. "Oui. It is her you need to take care of," he said in a soft voice.

"Marco? Ici!" the paramedic called his partner who then came their way with a gurney. The two man first took a look at Chris' wounds, cutting away the buckles of the vest and carefully watched under it.  
"Monsieur? Il-y-a deux bleeding wounds, not that bad, under the vest. She was lucky. But the impact was that hard that she passed out". They covered her with a blanket and carefully put her on the gurney, which caused a soft moan from her.

"Where will you take her?" Grace asked.

"l'Hôpital de l'Hotel-Dieu. Near the Notre Dame, Madame," the paramedic told her.

"You go with her, G. We'll be around," Sam decided. "Need to close the scene in here first."

/€/€/€/€/

Kensi, Sam, DiNozzo and Grace finally finished the paperwork with the French police when Tony brought up the disk he had.  
"What's on it?" Kensi asked.

"The driver mentioned it would be a video at a slow frame rate," Tony answered.

"We should have Deeks watch it, or have it sent to Eric," Grace added.

"Why bother, my gracious partner?" Tony wanted to know.

She looked at the others. "Remember Sam, Kensi, how we got Vandenburg? What if we could do that with Sidorov and use Chris as bait? We'd need some pictures or footage and maybe Hetty could arrange something with the CIA and broadcasting?"

Sam wasn't that convinced. "Sure, I remember. But this is Paris, not Los Angeles. Besides, I don't think Callen will like it. And Sidorov is not Vandenburg."

"Let's see if Chris is up to it, Sam," she tried once more. "Callen might be overruled by her judgment."  
It made Sam grin. The reasoning of his partner, team leader, pushed aside by Chris Young? It sounded like science fiction, yet giving it a second thought, he knew she might be the key to how this case could be closed indeed.

* * *

_Moya - 'my one'_

* * *

**_Thanks for reading. Please let me know if you like the way this storyline so far!_**


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer**: just permitted myself to use the team of NCIS LA, and why not ask for something more. Like Tony DiNozzo, Grace Stevens, team Red! It is a great mix of characters for which I'm grateful CBS and some wonderful writers came up with. There's only one OC in this story.  
Lucky her.

* * *

**Chapter 18 | Get it?**

**Florida | Key West**

All four of them took an hour to escape the naval base and left for Laverne and Shirley, their own headquarters. "Anything new on this McNamara, Dave?" Paris was curious to know if she had been on the right track.

"If I'd known how to address him in Spanish I would have tried. Would that be suspicious, I wonder? No. He's done this trip at least eleven times, anyway, that is what he told me."

"Well, I heard him bragging about how easy he can dismantle any nuclear weapon because he's experienced from the time he worked on submarines," Roy added.

"And you did not ask if he has done that ever since I suppose." Paris took a sip of her hot coffee and stared at the plain wall. Then she pressed the contact button on the keyboard and waited until the cams from both ways would work. Eric Beale appeared on the screen.

- _"Paris? What's up?"_

"Eric. How soon can you find out if Josh McNamara can be related to Isaac Sidorov or Naseem Vaziri? And while you're letting all systems run, find out too if any known associates of those men are at Gitmo detention camp?"

- _"On it! Be sure that our swift and secure intel will reach you, Paris!_" Eric pronounced her name as the French would call their capital, which made her smile briefly.

"So, wanna share your thoughts Paris? 'Cuz I did find out something I want to share," Claire said with a broad smile on her face. "Eric, you might want to know too. I've been looking in his personnel records. He's been a great officer for the last three years, so it seems. But in his records I found out he quit working on the subs because he had some contacts with a Syrian young man and he could not make up any explanation of how he suddenly had twenty grand on his bank account."

-_"Syrian? You have a name for us, Claire?"_ the LA tech checked.

"Nope. Was hoping you could find out. Happened in 2009, autumn."

-_"Nell and I will be working on it guys, we'll keep you posted!_"

Paris hit the escape button. "We should be heading back. Oh, Roy, when you have embarked tomorrow, please promise Dave you'll warn him in time when you get seasick. Heard you'll be sharing a cabin, so..."  
Gosh, how she liked the interactions of her team. The look on Dave's face was really unforgettable.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris**

"Mais non, Madame, you should stay down," Callen heard the paramedic say. He turned around to see how Chris struggled to get up, pulling off the oxygen mask that had been placed there to ease her breathing.

"Callen?"  
He noticed how pale she was, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, but too bullheaded to listen to the paramedic.  
"The papers-" a dry coughing interrupted what she was about to say, which made the paramedic quickly reach for the mask again. She shrugged it away. "-I have arrest warrants. For Sidorov. Dutch or American. Use them."

He was astonished that she had thought of that. Had she really considered arresting Sidorov just like that, on her own?  
The paramedic now gently helped her to lay back, a worried look on his face as he clearly was not used to patients as stubborn as this young woman.

"You should join us, Chris. No matter what Hetty or Vance ordered. We're in this together. But first you need to be checked out."

"I'm okay" she stated nearly inaudible as she closed her eyes and nearly passed out once more.  
The light shake of the head of the paramedic told Callen that he had another definition of being okay.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | Hôpital de l'Hotel-Dieu**

"No way. That is not going to happen," Callen decidedly stated.

Grace had just explained her plan to ask Chris to be used as a bait, just like they had done with Vandenberg.  
Back then, over half a year ago, Hetty had arranged a short broadcast on local television networks, in which police asked the public to identify an unknown victim of crime, who was in fact Grace. It worked perfectly and the team had nailed Vandenberg without any problems.

Sam noted the determination on his partner's face and reckoned Callen stepped into his protective role once again. "G, we should give it a try. DiNozzo and Kensi are with Deeks right now and with a little help of Eric we can arrange a news bulletin vid. All we need is a contact with the local broadcasters telling that the victims of this shooting were transported to this hospital".

"And I know DiNozzo is contacting the local CIA office to arrange the newscast already," Grace brought up. "In fact, we can use some footage we have. The camera on the trash truck for example caught most of it. But we also have other vids, people were filming. How sick can one be? All we're changing is that it looks like Chris was the one who's shooting and killing Vaziri, Callen."

"Whatever it is that Vaziri knew and Sidorov know about Chris bothers you, I can see that, buddy. We don't know what it is, but what I do know is that we need to get to Sidorov soon before he escapes once again."

He softened. "She is in no condition to defend herself right now, Sam."

"Callen, she has us, we'll keep her safe," Grace replied. "I know we cannot force her, but since there is nothing else so far we have figured out, we need to give a try."

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | Mercure Eifel**

He made more and more mistakes, using his left hand only on the keyboard.

"Are you getting tired?" Kensi asked, concerned that her partner might feel less fit for continuing than they all had thought.

Deeks cleared his throat. "No, Fern… It's just that I have some trouble concentrating with you—ehm, leaning over my shoulder like that."

"Oh!" She quickly stepped back. "I'm sorry Marty."

Deeks stopped what he was doing and looked for the right words to say without shocking her. He remembered the quarrel they had about 'communicating'.  
"Kenz… I'm not. Feeling sorry, I mean. I mean—well, it feels good to feel you."

Still, he turned around and tried to concentrate on the new program Eric had just shown him to work with. "We need to finish this before six thirty, at least, if DiNozzo deals with the local news channels in time."

"Deeks?"  
One of her hands touched his left shoulder, the other got lost in his blonde wild curls as her lips tenderly touched his. A slight moment of hesitation before she deepened her kiss. No hesitation from his side.  
His partner really was practicing her communication skills. Definitely.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | Hôpital de l'Hotel-Dieu**

A nurse appeared in the waiting area. "Mr. Smith?" Callen looked up. "In here."

The woman smiled. "You can see your wife now. Come with me, s'il vous plait. Doctor Joubert is waiting for you."  
He followed her, knowing that Sam and Grace would wait for him to come back. The young woman led him into a small corridor where a small and tiny, older doctor awaited him. In one way or another, the man reminded him of Hetty. He probably knew that Mr. and Mrs. Smith were aliases.  
"So, your wife has been lucky to survive a shooting in our city. In fact, she was very lucky that she was wearing a protective vest."  
Callen nodded.

"She only needed some sutures and she refused a complete anesthésie. She will however still feel faint and unsteady. And I was a bit worried about madames previous, ehm, let's say, injury. Two ribs were cracked. Breathing must hurt hugely but she refused to have pain killers. Maybe she will listen to you?"

Callen smirked. "Madame Smith is very strong-willed. But I will try, of course."

The older man smiled, understanding. "If you need me, I will be in the second room on your left."

The head end of the hospital bed was half raised. She looked very pale beneath the light yellow comforter, her eyes closed. A bandage covered a part of her neck where a bullet had grazed her. The moment he stepped closer, Chris opened her eyes. A faint smile appeared on her face. "Hey."

He carefully kissed her, short but softer than she was used to. "How do you feel, moya?"

"Okay by now," she said. His gaze did not leave hers, knowing she was just as stubborn as he could be. "Right. I've been better," she then said, looking away.

He sighed deeply, still not knowing if the plan his coworkers came up with, was the best. But until now, he had not figured something else out. Would the plan be too reckless? How come that right now, he was scared that all would go wrong? True, he was afraid, and Callen was scared to show it. He was supposed to be the strong team leader. The others trusted his opinion.  
But right now, he probably was the only one of this team that felt unsure if this plan would work out. And the high stakes worried him even more. He could simply not get it out of his head. What if all went wrong, what if something happened to Chris?  
Everyone he loved, eventually left. Bad karma.

"What's up?" she wanted to know.

He bit his lip. "Something Grace suggested. It's… complicated." Chris noticed the unguarded moment of unease, of something deeper, before his expression cleared. "I know we can't decide for you to volunteer, but right now, Deeks, DiNozzo and Kensi should have finished everything we need."  
That's when Callen explained how the others had come forward with the plan of using her as a bait to get to Sidorov.

"It's okay Callen. Let the party start. You never know if it works…"

/€/€/€/€/

Much to their surprise, the older doctor was willing to work with them. In the old hospital, which was to be closed later that year, some wards were emptied already. In some moments only they reinstalled a room for Chris and another one for 'staff'. The Iranians however were staying in the real morgue.

It was nerve-racking if or if not their trick would work and if all that Deeks and DiNozzo had done, would work out.  
Like in every big city, shootings happened in Paris every now and then. DiNozzo, Kensi and Deeks had seen two more news items about earlier shootings and used those as a base for what now was shown on the local news  
For the occasion, Deeks had joined the others. "If the bastard will enter I won't wanna miss a thing."

Much to their frustration, nobody turned up. At 11.30 PM, Kensi arranged three more beds so they could take a nap in turns.

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles | OPS**

"You know what Eric? To me it's far too coincidental. The Syrian Clair came up with, the one in Paris and the look on Janvier's face when Chris mentioned Syria." Nell leaned back in the high chair behind her screen, letting all kind of intel pass her mind once more.

Eric stopped what he was doing, or rather, he let the programs do it for him as he once more had it run names, years and places, hoping there would be a hit when it came to connecting Sidorov or Vaziri to McNamara.

Nell continued. "What do we know about Syria? There will be no military intervention from our country or any other for the time being."

"That is correct, Miss Jones. We have got the government army, the rebellions. And we must never underestimate the position of Al Qaida in situations like this."  
As ever, they had not noticed Hetty entered the operations center. "Considering 'we' have put many of their jihadists in Guantanamo and we suspect somebody to get nuclear weapons to the Guantanamo base, where does this lead to?" She let out a heavy breath.

"Aim them at the US and everybody blames Al Qaida for an act of terror. But have nuclear weapons aimed, and fired at Gitmo itself, one may blame the US. And the rebellions, probably. Which would strengthen the position of Assad once again," Nell concluded.

"Clever thinking, young woman. Which makes me wonder how I come to prefer brain above bits. Mr. Beale, anything from your programs so far?"

He shook his head.  
"Then we should contact Paris. Josh McNamara must not feel threatened, we should not warn him. But at the same time, her team should find out if the nuclear weapons that Sidorov hid, are shipped or ready for shipment. Homeland Security should assist if necessary."

She looked at the young team. Perfect work, great thinking. A rare smile appeared on her face. "Now, if this was not that serious, I would place bets on the second possibility, Miss Jones."  
Suddenly, she was able to shrug off the feeling that NCIS was not in control. Step by step they'd get where they needed to be.

/€/€/€/€/

**Paris | Hôpital de l'Hotel-Dieu**

In the dim light of the nursing desk, Grace and Tony played a game of Risk on the one computer that was installed, trying to staying awake. The soft beeps from another computer were just random. All looked realistic, yet it was not.

"Need more coffee, my Gracious. I cannot have you rule the world on your own." He stood up to pour himself a cup of hot coffee. "Tea for you?" She nodded and said "You should ask the others if they need anything too, Tony."

Right behind the open door of the room Chris stayed in, Kensi and Deeks had each put a chair, playing poker on the iPad Deeks had taken with him. "Practice, Fern, for when I take you to Las Vegas," he had whispered.

"No need to whisper Deeks," Chris said, secretly enjoying how those two partners interacted. There was definitely something going on between them and she wondered how it might affect their working together.  
Although there were moments she dozed off, she wanted to stay up, just in case.

Tony stepped in, carrying a tray with the hot beverages for Kensi and Deeks and a glass of water for Chris.  
"Ahoy, me hearty! Straight from the bung hole, captain's serve for the lass!" He remembered how he first met Chris and the same smile that he saw in the airplane reached her eyes right now. He was glad she looked less pale as earlier that afternoon.  
"Pirates of the Caribbean?" She guessed.  
He smiled back. "Aye! Shouldn't you get some sleep, matey?"

"Not now. But I'm getting bored, Tony," she sighed.

"Bored? Chris, this-is-where-the-action-is!" It made Kensi laugh out loud. She couldn't help smiling, just like Deeks did. It made her cough though and hurt at the same time.

"Chris? You really have to take some painkillers," Kensi said.

As if on command, a nurse appeared in the room. "Doctor Joubert asked to check if you need anything, Miss Young." Tony glanced at Kensi, then at Chris. "Maybe she refuses, but I'd say she needs some painkillers indeed," he reacted.

"Let me get some then," she said. Tony joined her as she walked out of the ward. "Maybe I should join you," he suggested, signing at Grace in the meantime. She quickly got up, grabbed her gun and followed Tony and the nurse. Then, they pushed her in one of the empty rooms and Grace aimed her gun at the woman while Tony said "There is no Miss Young in this hospital, so no way Joubert sent you here. Now, who did?"  
The answer was a smug smile, followed by "Somebody who knows there's two men less to guard the woman."

"Damn!" Grace cursed. "Go Tony!"

/€/€/€/€/

"Deeks! Wake Callen and Sam, now!" Kensi urged. She had her gun at the ready, shot Chris a reassuring look and said "Ready?"

Biting her lower lip she answered "As ready as can be."

/€/€/€/€/

**Florida | Key West**

"It looks like this right now," Roy said as he took a picture of the large items in front of him and hit the 'sent' button immediately after. "Do you figure we really did what we needed to do?" Working with this material made him afraid that if something went wrong, he would not live to discover what mistake he made.

It was quiet for some time. Five people at the other end of the line were observing his seventeenth picture and probably comparing it to the former ones and discussing it with experts too.

-"_Roy, another picture from a different angle please,"_ Eric requested. _"How does it look from underneath?_" He sounded so serious, which gave Roy the creeps in fact. It was serious business indeed.

"What do I do with this… 'things' I just pulled out?" he wanted to know first.

-"_Harmless like they are right now. Put it on the floor."_

"Done." He then got on his knees to take another picture. "Will this one do?"

Silence again from the Los Angeles side. Then the relieved voice from Hetty Lange reached his ear.  
-_"Well done Mr Quaid. Now, about the third item you managed to unplug from those two monsters? Put them in the blue trunk, a bit careful please._"

He did what she suggested. "What about the rest of it?" he asked once again.

-_"Harmless, told ya, Roy. You can make a happy dance right now. Put them in a trashcan, stick them to the wall, run over it with your car, never mind. You did it man!_" Eric exclaimed.

-_"You may tell Miss Summerskill we now need to wait to catch McNamara 'in flagrante delicto' so to say."_

"Will do so, Hetty!"

* * *

**Thanks for reading! As ever, your comments, remarks, thoughts are very welcome.**


	19. Chapter 19

_Although the real storyline like we saw in 5x01 is far from how all turns out in this one, it has been so much fun to use so many characters that came by in the show. Far from easy but I try to keep them all 'in character' _

* * *

**Chapter 19**

**Paris | Hôpital de l'Hotel-Dieu**

Lying in a bed, unable to step right into the action, was far from feeling safe right now, Chris thought. And yes, she was wearing another Kevlar vest, but it would protect her at some extent only. Besides, protect her from what, from whom? How could she prepare herself from what was to come?  
She now heard footsteps on the corridor coming nearer. One more deep breath, trying not to look too desperate at Kensi who was the only one right now who joined her.

"Khorosho, Miss Young. Eto yeshche odin okruzhayushchem prostranstve, chem my vstretilis' v posledniy raz [well well, this is a whole different surrounding than where we met before]."  
There he stood, accompanied by three more men.

Chris swallowed, knowing she would need to distract the man.

"You know that you are samostoyatel'no, all alone?"

She shook her head. "No, there is personnel in the corridor," she said. It made his men laugh. "Oni ushli, moy dorogoy Chris" [They're gone, dear Chris].  
Then she continued "Mister Sidorov? I left a statement at my embassy. It says you are conspiring with the Syrians. That means you too are guilty of war crimes and can be trialed in The Hague. You know what? I am arresting you."

For a split second, they were quiet. There was a flash of surprise on Sidorov's face, but then nodded at his men as he was about to summon them to do as ordered - kill the woman.

"She's serious, Sidorov." The calm voice of Sam Hanna behind him startled the Russian. He carefully turned towards the voice, hardly believing he was facing the two men he thought that were killed by Quinn.  
"Federal Agents! Put your guns away," Deeks ordered now.

He and Sam stood closely together, while Kensi and Callen had moved sideward, keeping their guns pointed at the men that had come in with Isaac Sidorov.

"Delayte to, chto govori Deeks [Do as Deeks says]," Chris now told them. She did have a weapon, aiming at Sidorov as well. Despite the fact the Russians were outnumbered, the team still only wanted to arrest Sidorov and not kill him. But above all, they wanted to avoid any shooting in this small room.

He shouted "Njet, cyka!" as he aimed at her. Three shots sounded nearly simultaneously. Then all was quiet again, except for the loud curse of Isaac Sidorov.

"Chris!?"

"I'm good Callen." He heard how her voice was unstable for just a moment. Then she repeated, softer. "I'm good."

/€/€/€/€/

**Jearlet || On board**

There was a soft tap on her underarm. "Hey, Kenselina?" Kensi woke up with a shock, shrugged off the arm and swiftly hit his left shoulder with her elbow. The loud grunt shocked her. "Deeks! Did I hurt you?"

"Bruises. You're giving me the creeps and combined it with bruises. What did I do to deserve that?" he muttered.

"Promise me you don't never-ever do that again," she said. "If you want to wake me, just tap my arm or shoulder, or whisper a sweet nickname."

"Just did."

"Why? What?" she wanted to know.

"Remember the story of the special agent who never sleeps?" He gestured at Callen who was calmly asleep, leaning on Chris' right shoulder, her long loose curly hair partly covering his shoulder.

"Cozy," she admitted.

"She looks… sweet." The sharp inhale of his partner said it all and it made him smile deep down inside. "Sweet. And lethal. I like that." She punched him again, less hard but more playful, as a matter of fact. 'Yes, Paris had been good for them' he thought.

Sam stepped in from the other compartment and sat down opposite of Kensi and Deeks. "DiNozzo and Grace have got it under control indeed. Sidorov is pissed so to say. Pissed and still bleeding." He smiled as he saw how Callen still was sleeping. It came as no surprise Chris was too. She finally had agreed on taking some pain killers and antibiotics. "Great shots from both of them. Pulse and elbow punctured in a matter of seconds."

/€/€/€/€/

**Washington || 1 month later**

She stepped out of the elevator and stood there. The orange walls, the cubicles… it was so different from the Los Angeles office. Right in front of a large TV screen, an older agent was explaining something to a younger man.  
Then, next to her, somebody came running down the stairs. "Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world, she walks into mine!"

"Tony!" A broad smile appeared on her face, lightening her eyes and making her appearance so relaxed. She really had the model looks, he thought. He hugged her and then asked "How're doing?"

The older man turned to the two. "DiNozzo! Head-slap for not introducing the lady!" He walked to them. "Gibbs. And you are?"  
She introduced herself. "Hello. I'm Chris Young. I ehm, have a meeting with Owen Granger and your director Vance."  
He raised his eyebrow. So, this was the woman. Great choice indeed. He shot her a smile. "I'll walk you to Vance's office, Christianne."

"Too bad our gracious new partner isn't in here right now," Tony said. Chris nodded. "I'm so happy for Grace that she's stationed in here right now. You were such a good team in Paris," she said.

"How about you?" Tony wanted to know. She shrugged. "Gonna be okay Tony". Then she turned to follow Gibbs.

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles || two days after**

She sat on the floor, her back leaning against the front of his large chair, and she was trying to read. She held the book against her knees, letting her left hand go through her curls and twist them around her fingers over and over again.  
She felt his gaze though.

It amazed Callen once more how at ease he felt with her around. The independent character, the way she was carefree right now, the slight sense of mystery and her good looks… it was a combination of it all. Sexy, without trying to be. He let out a satisfied sigh.

"Anything on your mind, very special agent?"

"I was wondering if I should have shaved this morning," he said, waiting for her reaction. A small seductive smile appeared on her face as she turned to him. "Wait. Sunday morning scruff?"  
He nodded and Chris noted a special spark in his ocean blue eyes. "Hmmm… Maybe I should check," she said as she got up, suddenly feeling the happiest girl in the whole world. He knew so well how she liked his five o'clock shadow and the way his stubble felt on her body. Yes, she wanted to feel that, and more.

His eyes locked with hers and as ever, he liked the way she wetted her lips with her tongue and then bit her lower lip immediately after. The best Sunday morning indeed…

/€/€/€/€/

Later on, they had lunch near the beach and despite the windy and rainy day – rare for Los Angeles – the two of them went for a walk on the beach. Chris had taken off her sneakers, rolled up her jeans and let the waves roll over her feet. On moments like this, they did not need to talk.  
Callen loved to see her like this, fresh, nearly playful. He caught up with her, brushed away her wild wet curls, cupped her face with his left hand and kissed her, while he let his right hand lower from her back until he let it rest on her firm butt.

"I'm going to miss you, Moya," he grunted.

"You won't have time to do so, and you know that," she answered with a twinkle that never left her eyes.

He cocked his head and said "I really need to let you know what I am going to miss. Let's get back."  
She laughed and started running. "Yeah."

/€/€/€/€/

She was wearing one of his blue button down shirts, shorts and socks, her hair still wet after the shower they'd shared. She had packed most of her stuff and was getting restless by now. She stood in front of the patio doors, watching the city lights behind the small garden.

"Having second thoughts Chris?" Callen leaned against the breakfast bar, noticing the change in her stance.

She sighed. "No, not really. But you're right, I'll miss… this. You. Though I know I'll be back before I know."  
She sighed once more before she turned around. With the one step she took backwards, she stepped on the chessboard, throwing off the pieces. "Oh, bummer!" She exclaimed. "G. I'm sorry." She knew he had been in this game for the last couple of weeks, only allowing himself to play a couple of moves a day.

"Chris… That is not at all important. I can start over once you're gone."

"I'm going to buy you a special table for your chess-game when I come back, Callen."

He smirked as he gestured from where he stood. "There's no room for it in here."

She looked around. In fact, the living room was empty, except for the corner in which he had put nearly all his belongings. There was the enormous armchair, next to it the smallest of all tea tables she'd ever seen, always cluttered by one or two books, an empty cup or bottle, newspapers. Behind the chair he had piles of books, which made it cozy in fact. He always had the chess game on the floor.  
On the mantelpiece of the non-functioning fireplace, there was something that looked like a bonsai. And of course, his box, the box of memories.

The only thing that changed since she was a regular visitor in his house was the fact that she always put fresh flowers on the breakfast bar and that there was a real bed in one of the bedrooms.

"Get some sleep, Moya," he said. "You'll have a long day coming up."

/€/€/€/€/

She woke up, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. Although she had nightmares before, this one was… different.  
Slowly, her heartbeat reduced to normal. Nothing in the room had changed, Callen lay next to her and all was still. And yet. It was different, it felt different.  
Quietly, she got out of bed and went downstairs. Nothing had changed.

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles | OSP**

"Morning G." Sam watched how his partner entered their office, full of energy. "Had not expected you in here already."  
Callen smiled. "Early come, early go. I'll drop her at the airport at lunchtime." He took his laptop, opened it and sighed when he watched the pile of files on his desk.  
Then, from the small platform, the sound of a doorbell rang. "Saved by the bell, Callen," Eric smiled, knowing how Callen detested the paperwork that went with his position of team leader.  
Sam and Callen entered ops, finding Deeks and Kensi in there already. "Right, what have we got Eric?"

"No dead marine. Yet," Eric said. "But there is a shooting and possibly a hostage-taking reported in Long Beach. They've asked for you assistance in there."

"Who asked for us?" Sam wanted to know. Nell quickly checked. "That would be a… special agent Nathan Reilly." She looked up. "I'll send more details to you phones guys. Keep in touch."

"Two cars. Kensi, Deeks, go. We're on our way," Callen said.

"Not too fast, Mr. Callen." The voice of their office manager came from behind as she entered ops as well. "There has been another request for you from San Diego. Marcel Janvier finally decided he wants to talk. However, he specifically asked for you. So, your team should handle this case without you."  
Sam looked at his partner, knowing how this would change his scheme for the day. "Go on, big fellow. I'll be alright."

* * *

_**Please, let me know what you think about this chapter! **_


	20. Chapter 20

_Too bad, we're nearly done… So sorry about this. And so will you, dear readers. Now, go on and read!_

* * *

**Chapter 20**

For a moment, Callen hesitated. "I'll be on my way, Hetty."  
He walked out of the ops room and sat down in the windowsill. There, he took his phone. Sure, Chris knew all too well how the game was played. She'd understand this too. How grateful he now was for the last couple of weeks.

Hetty heard him talk softly.  
"No, I can't make it—a taxi? Uhu.—Sure, moya. I need to check what the difference in time zones is.—I'll let you know later.—Take care too, Chrissie. Remember I look forward to another Sunday morning." He called off, sighed deeply and stood up.

Though for all of his coworkers it was difficult to read G. Callen's face, Henrietta Lange knew this remarkable agent ever so much longer. The faint smile that had been on his face every now and then surprised even her. To Hetty, seeing the boy growing up to be the man he was nowadays, had not always been easy.  
The hurt, the loneliness, the everlasting search for his identity, all seemed to be shoved to the background with Chris Young around. And Hetty loved that more than she would ever admit.

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue**

It was a great sunny morning, compared to the day before and Chris decided to have a cup of coffee outside.  
Callen had sounded a bit off when he called, even though she told him she understood. She had ordered a taxi already and now there was some time left. She enjoyed the fresh morning air and knew she would miss it for the next few weeks.  
A squirrel hopped next to her on the deck, obviously used to people around. She stretched her hand, curious it she could touch it.

"They have sharp teeth, Miss Young, be careful".  
In a matter of a second, Chris Young pointed a gun at Hetty Lange, but lowered it immediately once she noticed who stood behind her. The slightest smile appeared on her face as she told the older lady "Now you should have been more careful. I could have shot you, you know." She put her gun away and quickly got up, hurrying inside. Something was wrong, she had not heard the alarm.

"It is okay, Miss Young," Hetty reacted as she showed the young woman her set of keys. "He gave me the codes, so there is no need to worry young lady. And about the bullet? It would probably be a better way to die from that than from rabies, keep that in mind." She chuckled softly on her own remark.

Chris relaxed. "I'd love to offer you a chair. However, there aren't any," she said. "I know from experience though that the deck is a good place to sit on as well. I was having some coffee, can I offer you some too?" There was only a nod from the older woman. Chris wondered what the real reason was for the office manager, for Callen's handler, to come around. She fetched another cup of coffee and took it outside.

"Now, about Paris," Hetty started carefully.

"What's done is done, Miss Lange," she stated. "Look, I'm sorry I sounded rude but I was so disappointed about it all."

"What I want you to understand is that we sometimes make bad choices for good reasons. I now know that the decision I made, was one of the bad choices. And if you would ask me why I decided what I decided I could explain."

There was no reaction from the other woman and once again, Hetty doubted if she had the right and the guts to explain. Then, she simply took her purse, opened it and handed Chris an envelope.  
"What is in it?" she wanted to know.

"Open it."

She did and looked at the contents. "Why?"

"I wanted to keep Mr. Callen focused. He would be too protective with you around."

Chris had removed the envelope and looked at a picture she had never seen before. One that was taken a lifetime ago, at the Emmy's. Callen looked gorgeous in there, and in fact, she was dressed up and looking good as well. At that time, it was one of the worst moments ever, but the picture showed something else too. "It's… beautiful. Thank you."  
She hesitated for a moment, then she walked into the house and came back with Callen's special tea box. "He should keep it in here," she explained.

It was not what Hetty had planned, but in the end Chris Young might be right. "Now, about your decision, Miss Young. Director Vance called me this weekend. Are you sure you don't want to reconsider our job offer?"

She shook her head. "No, I don't. Though I liked to work in a team, you made me realize that perhaps I'd be better off on my own. My plane will leave in a couple of hours. After leaving my testimony against Sidorov in The Hague, I'll do what I have to do."

"Yemen is a dangerous country for Westerns, Miss Young. It's no good country to women either."

There was a determined look on her face when she replied. "I know. But I also know what my task will be and how to get to the person we're after. One more to be deleted from Gibbs' wall. And I know that if I could make only one little difference in there, the world could be a bit safer, maybe. And you know what? Even in here in Los Angeles, or with another team like Gibbs' in Washington, missions might just as well be dangerous."

Once again, Hetty nodded. She understood. Heck, this young woman reminded her of herself, of the decisions she made when she was younger. She sighed and then got up. Softer than she usually allowed herself to be, she said "I need to get back to the office. Promise me, Chris, to come back here. Everybody needs to have a home, a roof, even you do. And Callen needs you."

Chris took another sip of her coffee and then she stated "It makes me realize I need him too, Miss Lange." She took another look at the great picture before she put it back in the box as she heard the doorbell ring. "Let me get it, Miss Young," Hetty said.

/€/€/€/€/

**Interstate 5, near Encenitas**

Traffic had been a burden until he passed Irvine, and by now Callen really was focusing on meeting Janvier once again. Not that he looked forward to that, on the contrary. Every time they met, the tension seemed to build up.

Ever since Deeks and Nell had found out that Janvier was in fact a financial partner of Sidorov and Vaziri, he had wondered what the real matter of business was. Granger had tried to get Janvier to explain, but once again, the man had refused to say anything. Callen remembered how Chris had mentioned the fact that Janvier had referred to Paris several times, as if he wanted them to go there. But what could it be he was profiting from now he was in jail?

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue**

She had to stand on her toes to have a peek through the peephole and Hetty saw the taxi driver in front of the door. She opened up.  
"You ordered a cab, ma'am? The man asked. Hetty nodded, turned to Chris and called her to come to the door as well.

The moment Hetty stepped back and watched Chris come from the backyard, she knew she made a mistake. A horrid mistake indeed.  
Because behind Chris, another man suddenly turned up, one that closed the French doors silently and then took a syringe. In a swift way, making it impossible for young woman to defend herself, he popped the needle in her neck. In matter of seconds, Chris collapsed.  
In that same matter of seconds, Henrietta Lange managed to issue the 'agent in distress' alert. And right before she could not do anything else but watch the taxi driver coming near to her, the Chameleon, Marcel Janvier, entered.

/€/€/€/€/

**Interstate 5 || Encenita**s

His phone buzzed and Callen hit the button and put the phone on speaker. "Yeah." At first, nobody answered. Then he heard "Agent Callen. How about we put aside the poker-game. I know you prefer to play chess. Just as I do."

Callen firmly grabbed his steering wheel. "Janvier."

"On the road, agent Callen? I've been informed you are on your way to East Mesa Detention Facilities. How convenient I felt really ill and was granted to get on sick leave."

The sudden shock that we was being played, that Hetty had been played too. Callen had tried to block all the things Janvier had said after they'd lost Hunter and Renko. Now it all seemed to come back and it literally made him feel sick.

_ - I know where you work. I know where you live. I know who you care about.  
_  
_ - One day, I'm going to kill you. Soon. That's all I live for. It's all I care about.  
_  
_ - I still only live for one thing. To kill what you love._

He swallowed. "Where are you?"

""You know where I am, don't you? Perhaps you are ready for another game of chess. I now see how you prefer to play the game. However, I would prefer to go for a queen sacrifice."

The choking feeling made his vision blur. He pulled over and stopped the car. There was no 'no he would not do that'-feeling. There was only the gripping feeling of fear. Callen knew his voice sounded hoarse when he asked "What do you want?"

"I want to see you suffer. I want to finish what you started. To kill what you love. Revenge is what I live for."  
Callen just disconnected. Sam, he needed Sam. He could help. He should go. When he took his phone, the message he'd missed popped up his screen. 'Hetty'…

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue**

Chris opened her eyes. Nothing but total darkness. She needed to shake off the dizziness. It was as if she had too much to drink and it was difficult to think clearly. She tried to get up but noticed it was nearly impossible to move. Before she could think about that, she heard a soft moan close to her.  
'Hetty'…

"Miss Lange?" she whispered. "Hetty, are you there?"

"Hmmh."

She tried again. "Hetty, can you hear me?" There was another muffled 'hmmhm'. Chris' brain slowly started to function. "You hear me but you cannot answer, is that it?" What she now heard sounded most like an 'uh huh'.  
"Can you move, then?"  
In the pitch dark she heard Hetty shuffle while another 'mh hmh' sounded.

"Hetty? I cannot move. There's something… don't know what. Something very tight around my body. I can't get up or move." She was quiet for a while. "Perhaps you can get away. Warn your team."

Hetty was quiet now. There was no way she could let Chris know that she already alarmed the team. Nor that to let her know that Janvier was behind all of this, or that her hands were tied. Henrietta Lange had a very bad feeling about this all. Yet, she kept shuffling until she reached a wall. Considering the little room there was and the echoing sound Chris' voice had, Hetty supposed it must be a bathroom they were kept in. She stood up and carefully moved, backwards, until she felt a doorpost behind her.  
The long years of being a trained agent never left. Slowly, very cautiously, she opened the door.  
Still in Callen's place. First floor. And she knew how to leave that place unseen and without the alarm to go off.

But would she be able to take Chris with her?

* * *

_**Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed. **_


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 21**

**Long Beach || Seal Beach Weapons Station**

The San Diego team had arrived before Kensi and Deeks parked their car. Lots of marines were waiting outside, not used to what appeared to be an inside attack.  
Sam pulled over right beside their car and got out. Being the senior agent, he now acted as the LA team leader, though he was not used to it. After identifying his team, he said "We're looking special agent Nathan Reilly."  
The officer in charge motioned to one of the other entrances to the large warehouse. "Should be around. You'll recognize him. Redhead."

"Kensi, Deeks, gear up," he ordered. He opened the trunk, took out his thigh holster and ballistic vest and put it on.  
With the shooting at the Navy Yard in Washington that happened only weeks ago in mind, they did not know what they'd meet. When all three of them were ready, they hurried to where Nathan Reilly should be.

"Sit-rap?" Sam requested.

"Still 36 inside. Nothing on the perpetrator or perpetrators. Nothing so far on wounded or dead. Got 4 teams around. Want you to guard doors just around the corner. Will keep you posted. Go-go!"

It was at that very moment that all three phones of them started to buzz at the same time.

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue**

In the dim light that now entered the bathroom Hetty turned to look at the younger woman. She wore a white dress, decorated with lots of golden beads.  
It was tight indeed. She also seemed to be wearing a golden necklace. Hands and feet were cuffed. No wonder it was impossible for her to move.

"Go, Hetty. Leave now," she hissed.

Still, Hetty was trying to figure out a way to get the other woman out of there. Callen would never forgive her for not trying. Why, oh why had Janvier had Chris Young dressed up like this?  
The downstairs voices were louder now. Were they coming closer?

Chris noticed too. "Please, Hetty. Go, get Ca" -she swallowed – "Get your team in here."

Slowly, Hetty nodded. She closed the door as quietly as she could, sneaked at the landing until she reached the smallest of the bedrooms. She knew he kept a small mobile rescue ladder in there one could hang out of the window in case of emergencies, but she needed to get her hands untied before she could use it. This was the room where Callen put lots of his stuff, where he kept his tools and where he worked when he had trouble sleeping. She should find something. Soon.  
All she could pray for was that nobody would check the first floor before she managed to get away. But above all, she prayed that she and whoever came to their rescue, would be in time to get Chris Young out of there before anything bad would happen in this place.

Because indeed, Hetty sensed Janvier was setting up the finale trap for her best agent ever, the man she considered as her son, G. Callen.

/€/€/€/€/

**Long Beach || Seal Beach Weapons Station**

Torn between the responsibilities the team had in here, right now, and the disturbing message, Sam decided to contact Eric. "Eric, what's going on?"

There was tension in the voice of the young tech as he reacted "Finding out Sam. It's Hetty's phone, tracing it now… Westwood… Darn! Callen's house."

So far, Sam remembered only four previous distress calls from team members. This was the second Hetty ever issued. He knew it would take the three of them at least half an hour to get to Callen's house. "Get LAPD there ASAP Eric. We're on our way. Trace Callen, tell him to hurry."

"On it. Take care guys." And then, taking care of business, they heard the ever so pragmatical Nell say "I had director Vance call Nathan Reilly and get some other agents in there."

/€/€/€/€/

**Interstate 5 || Encenitas**

_'Finish it. We both want it'._  
He should have listened. Callen should have done what Janvier practically had begged him to do. Instead, The Chameleon had been medically treated and was transferred afterwards to San Diego.

His hands were shaky, something he really was not used to, when he dialed Sam's number. "Sam? It's—Janvier is at my place. He has Chris."

His partner silently cursed. "Hey buddy. Hetty is with her. G, it'll take us over half an hour to get there. I had Eric call LAPD for assistance." There was a long pause. He tried again, sounding as convincing as possible. "G, we'll get them out of there."

He drew a sharp breath and softly said "Sam. Take care." On that, Callen called off, concentrating on speeding back home.

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue**

At first, they had hit her, angrily, asking about the old woman. It meant they had not found Hetty, which was good.  
"Whatever she's doing, whoever she'll try to warn, it will be too late Christianne." He pronounced her name like the French did. There was a taunting grin on Janvier's face when he addressed her. "Now, for your information, agent Young. I would like to thank you for all you did for me so far."

She did not understand.

"Paris. Vaziri. Sidorov," he snorted. "It worked out so well. I know you must have had second thoughts, but in the end you and the team of that boyfriend of yours did exactly what I envisioned."  
She bit her lips. It was what she had mentioned to the others at least twice.

"Speechless now, are we?"  
He nodded to the two other men that were inside this house. He untied her feet and then the others rudely dragged her down the stairs until they reached the center of the ever so empty living room.

A sob choked her. She now noticed it was copper, wired all around her. And although she was not able to turn her head, she understood exactly what was happening and what the man behind her was doing with the wire right now. Copper-wire would be a great transporter of electric power.

"How appropriate this will be, 'Kitty Cat'. The 'grande finale', the last few moves of the pieces, the deliberate sacrifice of a queen. My strategy will end the game with one winner only. 'Check Mate' in a flash. And in case you have hopes to move, against all odds, remember a good player always plans ahead."

"You're sick, Janvier. Sick." She spit the words out, never mind her fears.  
With a sly smile on his face he spoke "It is called 'revenge'. Blame that on your dear agent G. Callen. It took some planning but I can't wait to see his face."

/€/€/€/€/

**Outside**  
Her pulses bled from the fumbling with a screwdriver behind her back, and her lips hurt from the tape she removed, but Hetty had finally managed to get away. She knew her team often called her 'ninja' for her talents of moving unseen and unheard.  
She had hesitated though; could she get Chris out on her own? But without weapons different than a small saw and two screwdrivers she knew she would be defeated easier than she wanted. All in all, she had counted four voices, more than she expected.

Hetty knew she'd be of more help once she was outside the house. In a soft voice, she called her office.

"Nell.—Yes, I am alright dear. Now tell me, what is the ETA of the team?—LAPD. Okay. What I want you to take care of…" and she explained about the wiring and a power shutdown.

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue**

It felt like hours now that she just stood there. Stiff and straight. Being watched from the inside and from different angles from the outside.

It was not that Chris was afraid of dying.  
But not like this, being sacrificed in front of all these people. She felt the pitying looks of the local police who were now ushered further away and were replaced by firefighters and people from a bomb squad. The sound of a helicopter made her nervous.

There was only one man left inside, sitting against the walls, keeping his gun aimed at her and with a backpack next to him and knowing he would be out of sight for any snipers. Somewhere outside, Janvier would be, unseen with two others. Waiting.

/€/€/€/€/

**Outside, an hour later**

"Hetty… We know of the different MO's he's used in the past. Hunter died like—wired." Sam corrected himself but he knew the others had heard him.

"And the way he got rid of the people in Russia, Brazil and in here. Shooting them so they can't get away, threatening and then setting them on fire, in their cars. Yes, I am aware of that too, Mr. Hanna."

For a while, Kensi hesitated. They all knew how Janvier killed Renko. "He was a perfect sniper. But… His hand." Then she reminded "Though if he'd use a tripod..." She desperately looked at the others "What is he going to do?"

The tiny office manager spoke in a sad voice: "He is waiting. Somewhere outside. Waiting till Mr. Callen shows up."

/€/€/€/€/

**Los Angeles || 631, Veteran Avenue**

She was tired now, still hardly able to move with the wire wound so tightly around her body and cutting her neck.  
It was as if nothing was going on, as if nobody was doing anything, while there were so many people around. And there was nothing she could do. Nothing but wait. Then the nauseous feeling she tried to push aside now fully returned.  
What if Callen showed up? Janvier told her that he wanted to see Callen suffer and kill him. Chris understood how. There would be only one way to stop Callen from getting close enough to be killed by Janvier or his men. If there was nothing left to get close to.

She prayed that she'd be brave enough.

"Janvier!" she now shouted. "It's a draw, Janvier. I'm not going to let you win!"  
Bracing herself for a painful death, she recklessly jumped forward to the man with the backpack. Tearing herself loose hurt so much more than she'd expected. She fell on her knees and the guard said something in a language she did not understand.  
There was, however, the voice of Janvier on the man's phone. Far away and heavily breathing. "Dear Miss Young. You surprised me. But this was a risk I knew I had to calculate. I feel sad to see you hurting yourself." He disconnected, but she hardly noticed it. Her tears were now running freely.

/€/€/€/€/

**Outside, later**

"He should have been here by now. Shouldn't he?" Kensi thought out loud, worried for their team leader. They had watched the crowds on the streets, trying to detect Janvier, being the Chameleon he was, but nobody had traced the villain so far. Eric was using different camera angles in the street and around Callen's house to find out if anything or anyone was coming near. The place was fortified by now.

The four of them, including Hetty, had finally left the most obvious place and discretely moved to the nearly deserted backyard. A heavily armed swat-team joined them and the plan was clear.

And now Hetty and Deeks were covering the others, Deeks was practically overrun by their team leader, sneaking closer to his own house. There was a frightened look in Callen's eyes, one he'd never seen before. "Dzjeez, Callen. How come no-one stopped you?" he whispered, grabbing the senior agent by his shoulders and trying to keep him away.

"Get out of my way, Deeks," he scoffed.

"Callen! I mean…G, there's nothing you can do right now. We've got it under control." Deeks was silent for some seconds only. "You know damn well that bastard is somewhere around. Waiting for you."

"He's waiting to he can kill her, you mean. It's not happening Marty," Callen glared at his younger team member "So don't you try to stop me!" He snarled, pushing him aside.  
Deeks stepped back, seeing that he was not the one to stop Callen in the end.

"Mr. Callen. You'd better step back from this scene."  
Much to his surprise, Hetty stood behind him, carrying a gun and carefully scanning the surroundings.

"Hetty? You're… good." He let his hands go over his short hair.  
She read mix of the questions, the guilt, the relief, the worries and perhaps the itch of accusation in his haunted eyes. She tenderly lay her tiny hand on his muscular underarm. "I'm so sorry about all this, dear boy. If only…"

His voice sounded distant, heartless "If only-s don't exist, you told me many times." He blinked some times and then softly asked "How is she, Hetty? What is he doing?"

"He is… waiting for you. Waiting for an endgame I cannot predict. We're trying to get her out." She motioned to the ladder and the shadows on the roof.

That was when his cell beeped once again. And Callen knew that who-ever was trying was too late to succeed. His hands were shaking when he took it and his voice hardly audible when he answered. "Please. Don't you—don't."

_-"Pleading now, are we, agent Callen? Not so tough anymore."_

He swallowed to clear his throat, not knowing what to say.

_-"You want to be with her._" Janvier concluded. He snorted. _"How romantic. Die with her."_

"Yes." It was no more than a whisper.

-_"You know the way."_

Callen nodded as an answer. With his phone still in his hand, he looked at Hetty in despair, then turned without any further notice. He no longer controlled his breathing and could not remember that he ever felt the panic he felt it right now. He focused on his feet that were involuntary going the right way.  
His box, his memories, in front of him. He picked it up, in a reflex, as he stepped towards the garden door as in slow motion.

/€/€/€/€/

Chris heard somebody coming near and then, as the steps stopped, she looked up. Her dark blue eyes met his gorgeous clear blues and locked. Then she bit her lips. 'No!' She shook her head.  
One more deep breath, and he took the door knob. For some reason he turned once more. At that same moment, he, Chris and all the others heard the single cough of a rifle. Only Callen felt how a bullet entered his body. It took less than a second before his brain noticed the burning pain and he gasped as he stumbled forward on the deck.

As if echoing from miles away, he heard Chris yell. 'So sorry' he thought as he tried to stay, to live, to fight. He blinked his eyes once more before he closed them. Was it seconds or minutes later that all that was his was blown away and everything went black?

* * *

Thank you for reading so far. I hope you will take the efforts to leave any replies on this chapter. There is only one more to come...  
Found the most appropriate song with this chapter: **'Waiting for the end' – Linkin Park**

* * *

Waiting for the end to come  
Wishing I had strength to stand  
This is not what I had planned  
It's out of my control  
Flying at the speed of light  
Thoughts were spinning in my head  
So many things were left unsaid  
It's hard to let you go

I know what it takes to move on  
I know how it feels to lie  
All I want to do  
Is trade this life for something new  
Holding on to what I haven't got

Sitting in an empty room  
Trying to forget the past  
This was never meant to last  
I wish it wasn't so

I know what it takes to move on  
I know how it feels to lie  
All I want to do  
Is trade this life for something new  
Holding on to what I haven't got

What was left when that fire was gone  
I thought it felt right but that right was wrong  
All caught up in the eye of the storm  
And trying to figure out what it's like moving on  
And I don't even know what kind of things I said  
My mouth kept moving and my mind went dead  
So I'm picking up the pieces, now where to begin  
The hardest part of ending is starting again

All I want to do  
Is trade this life for something new  
Holding on to what I haven't got  
I'm holding on to what I haven't got  
I'm holding on to what I haven't got

This is not the end, this is not the beginning  
Just a voice like a riot rocking every revision  
But you listen to the tone and the violent rhythm  
Though the words sound steady something empty's within them  
We say yeah with fists flying up in the air  
Like we're holding onto something that's invisible there  
Cause we're living at the mercy of the pain and the fear  
Until we dead it, forget it let it all disappear

**'Waiting for the end' – Linkin Park**


	22. Chapter 22

_This is the last chapter of this story, and I hope you like it ... _

**Disclaimer**: Remember, it's just my story. NCIS-LA was created by Shane Brennan; the characters in the story will never belong to me [except for Chris Young!]

* * *

**Chapter 22**

**Washington DC || NCIS office**

It was not that often that they found Jethro Gibbs like this at the office. He stood in front of the large screen when first McGee entered, taking back their gear from a case, immediately followed by Grace and Tony.  
The sound of the commercial breaks blared in the bullpen and yet, Gibbs seemed not to care.

"Boss?" McGee reacted on Gibbs' odd behavior. "Are you alright?"

"Huh? Yes. No." He paused for a while. "DiNozzo, Stevens. Pack some stuff. You're needed overseas."

"Ticket to the tropics it is?" Tony commented.

Now he caught Gibbs' attention in real. He shook his head. "The trial of Sidorov. The Hague, Holland."  
"But… Chris was—" Before Grace could finish her sentence, Gibbs interrupted her. "She's not, Stevens!" and then, softer. "She's not going."  
He turned to the screen again when he noticed the commercials had ended.

'Live stream from Los Angeles'.  
Footage of sirens, firefighters, LAPD, TV helicopters, emergency services… several houses burning, with in the middle one building completely destroyed from what appeared to be a heavy explosion.

-'_A law enforcement official told us that several gunshots have been heard before the house exploded. So far, there is no news about any victims or about the fate of the residents_,' the NBC4-reporter told.

"Anything?" Vance had joined them. The slow shake of Gibbs' head told him enough. No news at all.

/€/€/€/€/

_Half an hour earlier_

**Los Angeles || Veteran Avenue**

The anger rushed through all the veins of Hetty Lange's 4 feet 9 inches stature when she realized Callen just got shot.  
Her fault.  
She should have stopped him.  
She shouldn't have opened the door, hours before that.  
She… without any more second thoughts, she fired her gun exactly in the direction she had heard the shot coming from, close, so very close to where they had just been. And again, and again. Stepping closer, she discovered Janvier indeed. Alive, but hit by one of her bullets. And just when she decided to screw the rule 'not all killers deserve to die' and shoot him once more, a devilish smile appeared on his face.  
She turned to where his gaze went – the place where all of her team were.

Within seconds, she watched how flames appeared all alongside the windows and doors of Callen's house. The firefighters that had been stand-by hurried to the aid. In matter of minutes, they too watched in horror when the first explosion took place.

/€/€/€/€/

_6 days later_

**Los Angeles || Cedars-Sinai**

After the silence there was some low humming which his brain gradually registered as voices he knew.

"—think he is waking up." - 'Sam's voice. Good.'

Then it was clearer. Deeks who asked "Y'think he'll believe his life was saved by a tin soldier?"

Opening his eyes was a greater effort than he'd ever experienced. His eyes tiredly met Sam's. "Chris?" he asked, far too weak and with a scratchy voice.  
All he noticed was the small shake of the head of his partner. His vision blurred once again and Callen did not hear the answer, sinking back in a giant black hole called unconsciousness.

/€/€/€/€/

Deeks had been right. The Tin Soldier, one like had got Callen distracted when he was a young kid from seeing his mom getting killed at a Romanian beach, had saved his life. Ballistic research showed that the trajectory of the bullet that was aimed straight at his heart changed by meeting the Tin Soldier in the tea-box which kept all Callen's dear memories. His memories were all that were left…  
His physical recovery would take weeks. The bullet had punctured his left lung and the internal bleeding caused by it had taken hours of surgery. Besides this, there were cuts and gashes from glass and debris that hit him after the explosion.

The legendary LA team was completely out of action for the first week. Deeks had some minor scratches and a slight concussion. Kensi's ankle was sprained and slightly dislocated. Sam suffered from a superficial second degree burning wound on his left shoulder. And Hetty, well, she was especially hurt inside. Never before had she felt as guilty as right now. The only good news was that Janvier had be taken into custody once again.

After two weeks of desk duty, Sam, Kensi and Deeks had been cleared for field work again.

Six weeks after he'd been shot, Callen returned at the office, restless deep down yet calm for the eye. There was nobody breaking through the walls he built up once again. To him, being back at work at least was a place where he felt at home and working on the files helped him to pass the days. He avoided any questions or discussion about what happened though, something that constantly gnawed both Hetty and Sam.

Spending some days partly at his desk and partly with Nell and Eric in ops, he finally figured out how the relations between Vaziri, Sidorov and Janvier had been. This, he did share with the others.

"Sidorov has been working for Janvier all the time. It never was the other way around. Janvier paid him and Sidorov offered him 'a krysha', a roof, protection. And Janvier could go on and on with those arms deals. Until he wanted too much. I still don't know how we could have missed it."

Sam remembered "You're so right. Why haven't we noticed? I mean… he was posing as the driver so no-one would notice that in fact, he was the one who gave orders from behind the wheel, remember?"

No matter about the how and the why, fact was that both Sidorov and Janvier were locked away, far from LA.

/€/€/€/€/

_Nine weeks later_

**Florence, Colorado || ADX**

Leaning against the wall, looking relaxed, hands in the pocket of his jeans, he watched with a smirk how his nemesis was returned to his cell. Callen did catch the flash of both surprise and pure hate in Janvier's eyes. The man quickly came to his senses as he spoke "I didn't think I'd see you again".

"I just had to see this with my own eyes. Eight feet wide. Eleven feet long. Twenty-three hour-a-day lockdown. Triple life sentence. Priceless."

"Two hour plane flight, just to see me stepping into a cell. There's not much going on 'at home' I guess."

Just before Callen turned his back at him, Janvier watched how Callen clenched his jaw in anger. Oh yes, he noticed how the senior agent was hurt by those words. 'Priceless'. He did let him walk away, but then raised his voice as he asked "Did you ever read the Count of Monte Christo? It's the story of a man who spent 21 years in prison only to escape and exact his revenge. Agent G. Callen, the game is not over."

How grateful Callen was to be able to walk out of there. The bastard. Callen took a deep breath, leaning on the roof of the blue Chevrolet Camaro he rented at the airport.  
If Hetty knew where he had gone, she would have kept him grounded for sure. And perhaps it was naïve to do what he had just done, but it was a 'need to know' and it relieved him so much to find out that Janvier was convinced that Callen still was suffering.  
He entered the car and speeded back at Denver International airport to catch his flight.

/€/€/€/€/

**Washington DC, Navy Yard || NCIS office**

The C17 Globemaster III cargo aircraft that just flew in from Miami landed at the estimated time. Army jeeps that had waited for it, drove towards it to pick up the personnel that had been transported with it.

The senior agent, dressed in the standard issued grey cargo pants and black polo, his NCIS cap protecting his blue eyes from the sun, stood and waited for the four people that were dressed like him: a quick response team that returned after a three weeks, successful mission. Four individuals, teamed up for this mission only.  
He let his gaze go over them and a smile appeared on his face as he caught her eye. A flash of gratefulness appeared on her face as she recognized him.  
Leroy Gibbs saluted the tired looking special agent with the short, dark blond curly hair.

/€/€/€/€/

_flashback_

She had amazed them by the rather quick recovery. It had been Director Vance's own idea to have 'a law enforcement official' declare to the news-reporters that a woman, aged 32, was killed during the explosions of the house in Los Angeles. Soon after the very necessary first treatment, Chris Young had been transported to the Medstar hospital in Washington.

Gibbs had found it tough to see her struggle. He knew how bad deep second degree burns hurt and the infection that appeared during the first week had the medical team worried. Nurses had cut off what was left of her long curls. Keeping her away from Callen, not knowing how he was, was even worse. Even Gibbs found it hard that he could not be with his friend who was seriously injured, and although McGee had provided the Chris with all kind of connection-things – webcam, wifi and tablet – so she could contact the one she loved, Gibbs had seen how she suffered emotionally.  
There was no home for her to return to, no place to go to, not until the definitive trial of Marcel Janvier had taken place.

And so Chris Young had stayed at Gibbs' place for some weeks.  
Weeks in which he heard her cry out during one of the many nightmares, he heard her walking around the living room, he caught her sitting on the basement stairs, hands around her knees.  
Weeks during which he had carefully helped her to redress the awful wounds that would always remind her from what happened. He had tried to comfort her the best he could when he noticed she nearly suffocated from the tears she did not want to shed.

They had visited Callen twice, as soon as she was strong enough to travel. The first time, Callen had been very weak, but definitely looking better when she was around. The second time, they both were recovering fine. Gibbs loved to see them in love. Callen had visited them too, three times. Quick visits in weekends, so nobody at his office was asking anything. Though he knew, simply knew, that Hetty knew.

And then Chris had surprised them all by deciding she was going to join one of Vances QRT.

"Not Yemen, Callen. They already got Anas. Vance needs people for Colombia—Of course. There's no desk duty and I don't want a desk job.—You'll be fine, you've got your team.—The boathouse? Really—What? He really threw you out? I'd thought Sam would be used to that by now, haha.—Me too."

She looked up and noticed Gibbs was close enough to overhear their call. She quickly switched to Russian. "Vy vse yeshche ustal? [You're still tired?]-Da, ya splyu ochen' plokho [Yes, I have trouble sleeping]".  
Both men started to laugh and Chris reddened as Callen explained he and Gibbs spent several weeks in Russia together on a mission because they both were fluent in the language.

Knowing Callen was alright with his team, back at work, made her decision easier.

/€/€/€/€/

_Now_

**Washington DC, Navy Yard || NCIS office**

It was good to be back in here and Chris was glad to see Gibbs waiting for them. As ever, there would be a debriefing before they were free to go. She longed for a warm shower and fresh clothes.  
Immediately after the debriefing Vance took them down to the large wall where lots of agents had gathered and were now applauding when a big red cross was put over Manuelo Rodriguez' poster.

"You are free to go home now. Enjoy and thank you once again," Vance spoke.

He had been around all the time, standing between other agents and feeling strangely proud. Callen had never seen her like this, dressed in the NCIS uniformed clothing, he was not used to the short curls that looked darker now. It made her eyes look bigger and bluer then before. There was a certain mix of independence and vulnerability at the same time and it made him ache to hold her.  
Especially when, immediately after Vance finished his speech, he noticed the sadness in her eyes. She looked… lost. And perhaps even angry when Gibbs repeated the words of Vance with his special small smile. "Go home, Chris."

"Keys?" She held up her hand and then, definitely not understanding why he kept smiling and shook his head, she moved around.

The smirk, that special smirk he used only for her, and the spark in his clear blue eyes. His hands relaxed in the pockets of his jeans, one of his favorite jackets on a long-sleeved dark blue shirt.  
"Ready to go home, Chris?"

/€/€/€/€/

**Flight UA992 || Washington – Los Angeles**

He showed her pictures. A green couch against a brick, white-washed wall, white floorlamp, a lovely large and old mirror on the wall. Cozy, in fact.  
"There's lots of room for the books. I found new ones. Hetty handed me some great ones too. And we should go out and find another chair. Maybe green?"

She nodded in agreement, not used to Callen's talkative mood. And maybe because she was washed out. He noticed her contented smile as he let his fingers go through the short curly hair. Chris pulled up her knees, shivered from the air-conditioning. and cuddled up against his strong and warm body.  
Home.

* * *

_Thank you all for reading & reviewing. Grateful for the kind reviews and critical notes you left. I would be pleased to hear what you think of the story as a whole!_

**'One Day' #willbeback**


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